


The World

by RoseFangedLion



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Falling In Love, Fantasy, I don't usually write BTS, Living World, M/M, Mail Carrier AU?, Romance, Side Note: SpartAce is my default setting for parents, So this is all very new to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5571121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseFangedLion/pseuds/RoseFangedLion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say if you go and put your ear to the Heart of the World for long enough you'll hear the name of your soulmate whispered out in its heartbeat. But Yoongi fell asleep on that thing almost every night and he had never heard a word. Not that he's bitter or anything...and his bitterness certainly doesn't drive him to leaving his comfortable home to go out adventuring as a mail currier or anything...not at all. That said there is a distinct possibility that Yoongi is more sarcasm than human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Heart

They say if you go and put your ear to the Heart of the World for long enough you'll hear the name of your soulmate whispered out in its heartbeat. But Yoongi fell asleep on that thing almost every night and he had never heard a word, not even a breath. Just the resonant knocking beat of the world moving beneath him. It gushed and whooshed with the pulsing of great wings in the sky and the ebbing of the tide. 

With the length of his fingers extended in a painful splay across the glass pane that separated Yoongi from the wild rainbow of pulsing light, he waited, and he listened. For most of his childhood he had put his ear to the case. Listened hard. Fallen asleep to the sounds of strange life blood moving. Now, years later, in his twenties he just listened from afar and ran his fingers across the dancing shadows that flowed up from the shallow chasm bellow him. The world's blood ran thick with color and light and rushed with sounds unlike anything else. High and low and unique. Like a soul trying to sing without a voice. 

The young man swept a hand through is minty green hair and flopped over on his back, rubber shoes squeaking as he slid farther towards the middle of the gold framed casket. He threw the rag he had been window washing with as far to the side as he could. A sigh pressed through his plush lips, resounded in the dark like some broken promise that had never been given up on. 

Dark eyes dragged across the ceiling only ten feet above. Mountain ranges of stalactites rubbed dead and worn smooth from centuries sticky wandering hands made sweeps and hollows in the old cave. Another sigh. An aurora erupted before him, like hundreds of kaleidoscopes twisting at once, leaving no hill or valley of mineral unlit but the ones that blocked his shadow and he watched like he always had. With bitterness and wonder. 

“Can't you just tell me already,” he asked, his voice rumbling rather than echoing in the deadness of stale cavern air. As always there was no reply. There was never a reply. The truth of the matter was, he was starting to lose his faith a little bit.

For as long as anyone can remember it's been Yoongi's family that owned that land. They all lived there. His grandmother, his mother and father, older sister, and his two younger brothers. They took care of the heart of the whole entire world. 

The green haired man leaned up on his elbow, letting his shoulders sink back and his head lull. He wiggled his feet around in their beaten old shoes and watched the light changing above him. Sometimes in the coolness of the night, when everything had closed down he sat to think about how he was taking care of the heart of his world...well, the family owned a gift shop too...and had charged an entry fee to the temple for more generations than he could count on both hands (and both feet) but still. It was the principle of the thing. To him at least. 

It was the heart of his whole world. 

And it wouldn't tell him the name of his soulmate despite all of the good he had tried to do. He was kind enough, he cleaned up and did his chores like a good son. Even Hoseok had gotten the name of his soulmate. They hadn't met yet but he had a name. For life blood's sake. Everyone but him, it seemed, had a name for their future. 

Speaking of Hoseok, “Yoongi,” the familiar nasal chirp of his middle brother twittered through the rungs of old cave wall, “Are you done yet?”

“Can't you just leave me to suffer in peace?” the elder groaned back.

“Lamenting about the unfairness of life again?” 

“Every day,” Yoongi admitted, falling into old banter. “Because life is unfair Hobi. You'll find out someday.”

“I'm pretty sure you haven't gotten a name yet because your soulmate is dead.”

“Nice Hobi,” the eldest snorted, “Really nice.” His head lulled forward and his body followed until he was sitting smoothy, and kicking his shoes off onto the cracking floor.

The cavern at large was unimpressive, perhaps less because it wasn't, and more because he had grown up in it. A natural cave had formed around the Heart and not much had been done to it since. Railing and doors mostly. Oh, and the big glass casket that kept people from touching the actual Heart itself. For a sparse moment Yoongi wondered what it would be like to touch the Heart. He had wondered that often in his childhood. 

“You're such a grandpa,” his black haired sibling snarked, snapping the elder's thoughts back to reality, “Star Mother just messed up and sent you down a century or six too early.”

The mint haired man folded his legs under him carefully and cracked his neck against the stress of the day, “Don't let mom hear you say that,” he warned. “She'll chase you out with a broom.”

The younger shook his head and set a dramatic feathering of fingers against his own chest, “I would never.” 

“You're so loud she probably heard you,” another, deeper, less nasal tone of his youngest brother, Jungkook came rumbling through. “You're the loudest person I have ever known.”

“You spend enough time around Namjoon's dad to know that isn't true,” Hoseok countered, sticking out his pink tongue and emphasizing it with a strange wiggle. It was kind of gross. 

“Why can't you both just leave me in peace?” Yoongi sighed, falling back against the cold glass as dramatically as he could manage without hurting himself. 

“What's his deal?” Kookie asked, probably tucking some of his annoyingly perfect black hair behind his annoying beautiful ears because everything about him was annoyingly gorgeous and perfect. 

The eldest could hear the shrug in his middle brother's silence. 

“Same thing as always?” Jungkook asked. 

“Yup,” the p sound popped out of Hobi's mouth like a slap to the elders face, “Always the same thing.”

A sigh escaped someones mouth, or maybe everyones. Maybe even the Heart. It was entirely possible in that moment that the whole room and all of its patrons had sucked in sharp breaths and spat them back out in overwhelmingly perfect unison, making it impossible to distinguish between the separate parties.

“I don't get what the big deal is,” the youngest of the three offered, “I've never gotten an answer either.”

“Because you're a baby,” Yoongi snorted. 

“I'm sorry Grandpa, you must be confused again,” Jungkook was quick to fire back, “This isn't your room. Grandma is upstairs waiting on you.” 

The only word that could truly express the feeling of utter grossness in that statement was cringe. Yoongi cringed. And perhaps died a little bit inside. Because ew. It was so gross, in fact, that the mint haired eldest brother actually sat up to face his siblings, “Dude, ew,” he shook his head and crinkled his nose, shortening his shoulders. 

“Too far?” Kookie asked sheepishly. 

Hoseok stepped in to answer “Too far.”

The youngest offered an apology, rubbing at the back of his neck. He slid forward slipping hands into shallow black sweater pockets. “I really don't get the big deal though. It never answers me either. Maybe it just doesn't like us.” 

Bare feet skidded across the chipped dark yellow paint of the threshold. At one point it had said something in the language of old but millions of feet had beaten the words right out so now it was just a nuisance that had to be re-painted at least once a month. 

Jungkook bent under the rusted metal railing like all of the tourists did, curved his long, pretty back and pressed his ear to the heart coffin. The blazing aurora that was ever bubbling from it flashed a brilliant hot pink and Yoongi narrowed his pouty eyes, chanced a glance at the ceiling and the realization hit him like a wall of steel. The kaleidoscopes changed directions. 

“Mom's going to kill you,” The eldest snorted bitterly, because this was the ten millionth, billionth, trillionth time he had seen this happen. All his life he had been watching it happen. 

His youngest brother stilled for just a moment, flushed deep red. Like an apple or a tomato, or a beet...although beets were more pink than red most of the time...anyway. Jungkook, with his stupid perfect hair turned a blotchy unflattering color and stared with puppy dog eyes up at his oldest brother. Not the love struck kind of puppy dog eyes. No, those were the eyes of an animal that just gotten caught doing something it shouldn't have been doing. 

“Who was it?” Yoongi teased. “Someone we know?”

The youngest snapped his head away and slid back through the bars. 

“No way,” Hobi jumped in, nearly falling as he bounced forward, “No way, it's someone we know?”

“Who is it?” Yoongi asked again.

“None of your business,” JungKook snapped. His sudden defensiveness was the most telling sign of all. Yoongi knew exactly who it was because they had been teasing the poor boy mercilessly for nearly all of his life about it. Kookie must have seen the glitter in his brother's eyes because he put his hands up in defense, “I swear to Goddess Yoongi, don't you dare say it.”

It was futile really. Yoongi was many things, lazy being among those, but stubborn, oh stubborn was his defining feature. Stubborn was his true and most flattering form, Stubborn was what he knew. Stubborn sent the words to his next sentence sailing out his mouth in a sashay of completely unnecessary sass, “It's Namjoon isn't it?” the eldest asked, with the distinct twitch of a smile pulling on his lips despite his deep seated jealousy. 

Jungkook didn't even have to chance a reply, he just tightened his lips and sighed out, “Well at least now you can't tease me anymore.”

“Yeah, but now you have to walk across the street and tell him.” the minty haired embodiment of snark that had once been Yoongi pointed out. 

“And then you have to drag him over here for confirmation,” Hobi added. Unless he already knew. Yoongi had a feeling the pink haired bar wench already knew.

“And then you have to tell mom you did it without her,” the eldest continued.

“And then you have to plan the wedding.”

“Oh no,” JungKook muttered, “Mom. Mom is going to kill me,” his face literally drained of color. If he had gotten any whiter he could have faded into the slick cave wall, “I'm too young to be married. She wont make me get married will she?” 

“It's what people around here do,” Yoongi shrugged. 

“Namjoon is going to be so excited,” the middle brother said, “He's liked you for forever.”

“But I'm only nineteen,” the youngest explained, “I'm not ready for this.”

“Hobi was eight,” the eldest offered. 

“And Jin was six when he and Himchan found out,” Hoseok stated. 

“That was by accident,” Yoongi hissed. “They weren't supposed to be in here.”

“Neither was I,” Jungkook snapped, his voice cracking like a prepubescent choir boy, “I wasn't supposed to check again for another four months.” 

Of all the ridiculous things poor not-so-little Jungkook looked like he was about to cry, oh kiddo. His big eyes were turning almost as red as his face had been. His cheeks were starting to paint in all weird and blotchy again. In the uneven light the youngest, and tallest, wiped his nose on his long sweater. He was trying so not to look shaken or overwhelmed. 

“We were just kidding,” the eldest said, “about the marriage stuff. It's okay,” somehow he'd managed to find the part of himself that cared, perhaps because oh man, he would never want to end up with Namjoon himself and they had given their poor, awkward youngest brother such Outer-world about it all his life that he probably had a complex. Poor kid, “it's between you and Namjoon. No one is going to rat you out to mom.”

Hoseok nodded in agreement and mimed zipping his lips shut. 

“I'm...I'm going to go talk to Namjoon,” the youngest said. He shook his head in a way that Yoongi couldn't remember him ever doing before. It was like watching youth slide right off his shoulders. Something like the weight of adulthood and adult choices settled in its place and maybe the older man didn't want a soul mate after all. He watched his sweet youngest brother wander back out looking much more despondent than he had coming in. Hopefully it wouldn't last for long; he would hate to trade his Kookie for something plain and boring. 

The grit of the floor scrapped, making a shrill squeak that tried to echo against the dead walls. Two remaining brothers watched their youngest go, held their breathes and dared not move until he was long gone out of range. Hoseok shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and snorted. 

“That kind sucks,” the middle brother said, “Well...it doesn't suck because...like, he has someone, and he knows that someone and he cares about that someone....”

“I feel just a little, tiny bit bad about teasing him now,” Yoongi cut in through the ramble. 

“Yeah...That,” Hobi agreed. “Thank's for knowing what I meant.”

Yoongi snorted and crumpled back into a pile on the Heart of his world, staring at the kaleidoscopic ceiling. “I never know what you mean.” Mint fringe hung in the way when he tried to shift his eyes, so the older brother didn't bother to look up when he heard shuffling. 

It was the loud grinding squeak of old rubber sneakers that tipped him off to Hobi's intentions and then a sarcastic, “Do you think this thing can still hold both of us? It's been like...years since that last time we both laid up here together.”

“If it cracks and breaks and we both fall to our deaths at least only one of us will have to get put on the wall of tragic deaths,” Yoongi snorted. 

Hoseok came to rest his right next to the older man's head pointing his feet in the opposite direction so that between the two of them they were taking up the whole casket. They laid ear to ear for a quiet moment before “They would still put you on the wall...for later you know?”

“I know Hobi. It was just a joke.”

“It wasn't funny.”

“Neither is anything that comes out of your mouth but you don't hear me complaining.”

“Good night Yoongi.”

“Good night Hobi.”

He didn't remember closing his eyes but he did remember dreaming of supple fields filled to bursting with blossoming wildflowers and honeysuckle the color of deep, burning fire. The smell of summer had been endless and infinite and his own heart had been full strange things like flowers and feathers and pearls and sand. A heart made of sand, the thought followed his sleepy brain out of dreamland and into reality as he came slowly awake the same way he did nearly everyday. The soft thumping of the world pulsed through him, the light changed colors and he blinked the last bit of sleep away to find himself utterly alone in the chamber. 

A new, strange thought occurred to him as he stretched and sat up. He wondered what it would be like to have a heart filled with the world, with sand and island and water. There was so much in the world it must be hard to find space in a heart for it all. With that thought he rolled his shoulders to the side so he could look down and noticed all of the smudges where his oily skin had collided with the crystal case during the night.

He could almost hear his dear mother's voice in the quiet, “Yoongi really? You're sleeping here again? Clean up this mess before we have patrons,” she would say. In fact the voice in his head sounded so astoundingly real that he twisted to look around and make sure she wasn't actually there. 

Thank Goddess in heaven it was just his imagination. JiHyo hated it when he slept on the Heart. “It was cute when you were little,” the ghost of her voice in his head pointed out. He pictured her with hands on her hips, rouged lips pursed. The thick salt and pepper of her graying hair would be frizzled and dry that morning, with the sticky heat already trying to penetrate his air conditioned cave of colors. 

“Yoongi you need to change clothes, Yah! Get up you lazy,” the phantom image of his mother chastised, shaking a finger in front of his face. Of course it was completely unnecessary to actually blow her away, since she was definitely imaginary but he had always gotten some sick satisfaction out of watching her evaporate in his minds eye. Little sparkles of mom dust just trailed away and he used his hand to whip through the rest of the imagined image of his mother. It was probably a bad habit, interacting with imaginary things had gotten him in trouble plenty of times before. Including with his mother. 

The oldest son slid down off of his surprisingly comfortable glass bed and stepped across the narrow cavern walk way to the rickety wooden door that had his cleaning supplies behind it...and also a change of clothes he noted as he pulled it open. Fresh jeans and a nice purple v-neck t-shirt. Hoseok had undoubtably left them there for him. Old boards collided with the uneven parts of the floor in places as he pulled the dark cherry wood door as far open as it would go. He managed to change his shirt and unbuckle his pants while he was collecting clean rags from the shelf and acquiring his cleaning spray. Maybe he did sleep there too often if he could multi-task that well. 

Freshly changed, he slid back through the bars and up the side of the case with practiced ease, fitting rags over his feet and hands. It was slow going for those very few steps to get up there but he had to be careful not to leave fresh foot prints or hand prints in his wake, it would make more work for him. 

It only took a few sprays of weird smelling vinegar glass cleaner and a couple of rag swipes to whisk away all evidence of his unauthorized sleepover. He spread his rags out in a familiar array. Made sure they were touching his skin and laid down on his belly, taking care to never touch the freshly clean crystal with anything but cloth. 

“Sorry my skin is so greasy,” Yoongi sighed out, staring down at the flashing brilliance of light. “I didn't mean to mess up your pretty cage.”

The aurora flared in reply. 

Yoongi snorted, and twisted his wrist to check his old watch “Right, mail day,” he sighed skidding back down gently, “and you have a ton of work to do today too.” 

The mint haired twenty two year old cleaned up and closed the closet after shoving yesterday's clothes as far to the back as he could. He smiled and tossed his shoes in with the other clothes before turning to offer a deep, respectful bow to the bane of his existence. “Do well,” he offered, “Make some people happy today.”

It was a no shoes kind of morning. 

The heat of mid-summer hit him on his way out the back door. Everything was doused with sweat, even the air. Slick flagstones rose up from the garden walk to meet his feet and he slid across them with a smile on his face. Young lavender was blooming next to carefully groomed roses. The flowers sang him greetings with the help of a flighty breezy as he slinked from one stone to the next, dipping his toes in the thick mud of the early morning every so often. 

Even the birds were up and chirping away despite the early hour. It was scarcely four thirty in the morning. The sun had yet to rise but Heechul met him at the gate like he did every week, big floppy white hat covering the pale fluff of hair on top of his head and baggy shirt draped long and low across his narrow shoulders. 

“How much this week?” Yoongi chanced to ask as he rushed down the old walk way. 

“Not too much. Small enough load for me to carry on my own this week,” the fine features of the mail man's face pulled a little as he leaned over the low wooden gate dropping the bag off his shoulder with all the grace of Namjoon on a Monday morning. 

Heechul proceeded to lean down on his elbow seductively with a wry smile hooked into his lips and asked the usual question. “Figure out who your soul mate is yet? Am I still in the running?” 

“You'll never be in the running if you keep waggling your eyebrows like that,” the younger man snorted. “Don't you already have your soul mate?” He pulled the lid off of a ceramic pot by the gate and yanked out the empty burlap mail sack that had four others balled up inside of it from the prior week. 

The Heart got most of the mail but sometimes the family got some too. 

“Hangeng wouldn't be opposed.”

“He would hate sharing you,” Yoongi said.

“Have you thought about my offer yet,” Heechul joked, like he always did. The man was 60% sarcasm and 40% sass. “We can still run away together.” In all seriousness, Heechul would never do that to his beloved husband. Just because he was a world wanderer didn't mean he was a relationship wanderer. He just liked to play flirting chicken with all of the boys...and most of the girls, in town to see who ran away first. Yoongi was his favorite target, because Yoongi was stubborn and didn't back down from creepy insincere advances.

The older man righted himself, and threw the heavy mail bag up over the fence. Boards creaked and leaves rustled or maybe it was the paper inside the bag, not leaves. As Yoongi caught it in outstretched arms for the first time in his life the younger man actually considered the words that Heechul had offered him. With the air knocked clear out of his lungs he realized; he could leave. He wasn't stuck here. He didn't have to stay and watch his brothers fall in love or listen to his mother tell him that his time would come. 

“See you next week kiddo,” The blond said. A smirk painted his lips rosey and he snatched the bag of empty sacks from the smaller man's soft hands. “I hope you find your someone.”

“Yeah yeah,” Yoongi hesitated. 

“I hope that someone is me,” the mail man winked, and clicked his tongue before he turned.

“Safe travels,” The mint haired Heart keeper replied. 

Travels.

Thoughts raced through Yoongi's head. At twenty two years of life he had scarcely left his own block, and never left his own town. He'd seen only seen the world or the wild in pictures and books. He knew the world had a heart but what did it look like? Chills raced up his spine, electricity like he had never known sparked somewhere deep in his soul, pouring through with ideas and visions. His heart was full of sand and feathers and resolve that he had never known. The thought of leaving...it was resonating through his ribcage like the strings of a violin being plucked. “Wait,” He shouted after, “Heechul, wait.”

Heechul, for his part, rolled with shock as he turned back around, “Yeah kid?”

“I want to go with you.”

For his part the blond managed to maintain composure much more sleekly than most would have, “You know I was being sarcastic right?”

“Not to run away and get married part,” Yoongi snorted waving off the ridiculousness of it, “but...I want to leave. I want to be a mail man I think,” Yoongi muddled through a reply that he never in his life thought he would be making. “I'm sick of this place.”

The older man lit up like like the sunrise in the distance, his features sharpened and softened all at once and a lanky haze of a smile crossed his face, “You realize no one ever leaves this town right?” He managed, “People come here to get away from the outside.”

It was true that there were strict standards for people coming to live there. There was an application process and everything. His family was just a legacy. No one but them had ever cared for the Heart of the World. Jin and Namjoon, their family, they were the only immigrants he had ever known on his block. 

Yoongi nodded, hugging the rough brown sack to his chest, “Yeah I know,” he affirmed, and he looked back to the big black door, the wrought iron twisted up in spirals around it and he saw the Heart beyond, felt the ever present thump beneath his feet. A heartbeat away from the choice that would change his everything. A heartbeat that pushed him over the edge. “But I think maybe I should.” 

It was the lull of his head that gave away his sincerity, he knew that the moment Heechul reappeared at the gate, “Well Star Mother in heaven,” he swore, “You really mean it.”

“Sure do,” Yoongi replied. 

“You haven't thought this out at all.”

“Not even a little bit,” the younger confirmed with a ghost of anxiety rising up in his chest. He banished it was a sigh.

The blond was searching him for something, eyes dragging over his outline like a pack of circling birds trying to figure out when to dive. “It's hard work.”

“Yeah.”

“A lot of people die.”

“At least they won't have to add me to the wall of unfortunate deaths?”

Heechul laughed. He actually laughed. A glorious chitter of obnoxious snorts and giggles rattled out from behind the older man's teeth. Even his lips curled as he rolled through several waves of entertainment, doubling over and twisting as he attempted to contain himself. Hoseok never laughed at that joke so Yoongi had assumed it wasn't funny. Somehow he managed to contain his shock and keep a cool composure, with just the barest hint of smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

“Goddess, I love your sense of humor Yoongi,” Heechul cleared his throat and straightened up. 

“Well,” Heechul began, “Today is your lucky day. I am the commissioner for the area and we're always short staffed...” He snorted, “Sorry, that wasn't meant to be a jab at you.”

“I wouldn't have thought it was if you hadn't said anything?”

“Good,” the elder retorted, “So you're serious about this?”

His heart skipped a beat, the ground throbbed beneath his feet and a “Yes” came sliding out without even a second thought, “I am.”

“I was going to head home early today since I don't have anything to deliver farther out,” Heechul muttered more to himself than to anyone else, “Ah well, I can stick around for a couple of hours.” 

“Since you haven't thought this through at all,” Heechul spoke up, “And because I like you, I will stick around for a few hours. That's long enough for you to pack up and say your good byes right?”

“Better to rip the band-aid,” Yoongi confirmed.

“Most lingerers change their minds,” the elder nodded. “I have to round up the outgoing stuff to take back to the center. Pack some clothes in an empty mail sack,” the elder offered him an empty mail sack for emphasis, “and anything else you might need. Pens and paper to write home. Keep it minimal. I'll take care of your food and water for the trip there...because I like you. You'll need money,” he was kind of rambling at that point but Yoongi was listening as carefully as he could until the other clicked his tongue again, and reached into the back pocked of his black denim pants, “Here, actually,” he offered out a black envelope, “It has your start up contract and the list of things you should bring on it...just...ignore the start up costs. I'll take care of it. I'll take care of the money.”

“You don't...I don't...” Yoongi tried to find words for, 'I really don't need to leave,' or, 'please I will figure the money out.' 

Heechul shushed him, “Just accept it, don't fight it,” he winked waving the dark envelope in the younger man's face. “Don't fight it,” he said again, less teasing and more softly. So Yoongi swallowed his stubborn pride for once and accepted it. 

The sharp corner of carefully folded paper struck the younger man right on the tip of the nose and he felt a blush rising to his cheeks, because he really hadn't thought this through. Most men (and women) that took up the post of mail curriers had been planing to do so most of their lives. Either by legacy, or by lottery. Very rarely was it by choice. There were so many things to think about. 

“Don't over think,” Heechul warned as the younger man took the letter, “Just pack and breathe and tell your family you love them and you will write them.” 

“At least I'm not prone to over thinking things right?” the Heart keeper winked. 

The elder laughed again and offered up something sincere in reply, “That wit is going to get you places you know? I've always thought that about you.”

“Thanks?” Yoongi asked. 

“Three hours,” Heechul said. And he turned and left. 

Three hours...he had three hours to figure his whole future out. He watched Heechul trek back across the long road leading up to their land and thought about the future. He had never thought much about his future. He figured he would do what everyone in his family had always done:

Find a soul mate, and stay. 

Have a family, and stay. 

Just stay, and never leave. 

This new future, was one that he had never chanced a thought about. Sure he had dreamed of adventure, everyone does. But his adventures had been rolling in mud in the garden. Was he even sure he knew what he was doing? Probably not. But his parents would say that that was pretty normal. 

So he let out a monstrous sigh that turned into a yawn. The heat of the day was hours off but he already felt like he was drinking air. Yoongi thought to complain or curse but he figured he'd better get used to it if he was going to be going on some grand adventures anyway. It wasn't likely that he would have the comfort of an air condition, climate controlled cave again anytime soon. What in Goddess' good name was he doing?

His mother was going to kill him; that was the last thought he had before he turned and walked up the way to the house. 

His mother did not kill him. Probably because his father was the one who caught sight of him through the door. Jongkook wasn't a tall man, but he was a large man, a solid wall of muscle. Intimidating in his own right. “How much today Yoongi?” his father's sweet voice echoed through the house. 

It was the same question every mail day, and just like always his dad came around the corner from the kitchen into the entryway. He leaned against the shoe bins. Smiling, chocolate hair ruffled, powder blue apron tied around his waist. He was bright like the harvest moon on the deepest winter night. Eyes pushed into tiny crescents. The eldest son had always been glad that he inherited his father's smile. 

“Just one today,” Yoongi hesitated, dropping the bag on the floor. 

Impulsively he reached to untie his shoes only to remember he wasn't wearing any so he walked back to the rug right in front of the door and wiped his feet. With Heechul's envelope still pinched between his thumb and index finger he spun back around. 

The smile was gone. Melted awkwardly into the floor with father's strong jawline. The mint haired man thought for sure that his father was going to call for Jihyo but instead a sort of hardness ghosted across his strong, masculine features. Something about it reminded him of Jungkook the night before. The gravity of his own adult choice tried to settle on his shoulders but Yoongi shook it loose and brushed it off. 

“Don't be mad?” He asked quietly, begged a little maybe, “I've only got a couple of hours, please don't spend them mad at me.”

To his eternal dismay it was the sickly sweet voice of his crazy mom that floated in behind the fuming tiger that had taken his father's place. “A couple of hours for what Suga?” her slender hand trailed up JongKook's broad shoulder and pushed as if exerting force would somehow release the sudden tension in the room.

Instead of answering he held up his envelope. “Ah,” she smiled. Not exactly the response he had been expecting, “Finally took Heechul up on his offer did you?” Her arms wound around her tense husband. 

“You haven't signed yet have you?” his father seethed.

“Yah Jongkook, don't be rude,” his mother hissed. Yoongi wouldn't have known that she smacked him except that his dad's hair fluffed up in the back after her arm disappeared...well that and he flinched...but who wouldn't. “He's not a baby anymore.”

“What did I do this time?” Jungkook whined from upstairs somewhere. The floors were thin...very thin. 

“Jongkook not Jungkook,” Yoongi and his mother offered in unison to the disembodied voice of his youngest brother. 

Of course it was at that moment that Hoseok decided to wander in too “What's going on?”

“I'm going on an adventure?” Yoongi asked, watching Mom's face for confirmation, still holding his envelope up. 

His older sister, the only one family member who shared his green haired trait, didn't say anything at all. Hani just shrugged and kept walking with half a piece of meat hanging out of her mouth. It was very her....

His family, they had never been much for flashy shows of affection or anything like that...well except Hobi but that kid was kind of the black sheep. The really hyper, kind of endearing black sheep....that clung to him for three and a half whole hours. Hani had refused to help pack but she read the contract out loud in really terrible executed accents that didn't even resembled the countries they were supposed to come from. Yoongi was pretty sure he had it memorized by the time they all headed for the door. The mail bag was half full. Mostly with clothes, because he needed something for every type of weather. Jungkook had even given him a winter coat. 

“Its too small for me,” the youngest had shrugged, stuffing it into the bag along with a stuffed bear, “So you don't forget me.” 

“I'm not going to forget anyone,” Yoongi snorted. “I'll write as often as I can.”

“Yoongi did you leave your shoes in the broom closet?” Hoseok whispered as the younger reached for his own, taking the bag off of the eldest shoulder.

“Oh....” the older almost cursed but caught himself. “I mean...yeah.”

His mother gave him a side glance of disapproval but said nothing as he bolted out the door. 

“He forgot his shoes...” faded into the background as he found it in himself, strangely, to run. He blew through the garden and down the hill, let his feet slid in the mud slick. He was on a time limit after all. As he yanked the broom closet open and riffled through things until he got to the back the colors around him shifted. The lights were bouncing of the walls, and darting around like fireworks in the sky. 

Something struck him in that moment. When he was going through the completely mundane task of tying his shoes. Something like fear, or anxiety, or maybe a tiny pang of regret. He was leaving everything he knew behind. His whole world. His whole world had been in a one mile radius. All his life he had lived here, and hardly left. Never once, had be been beyond the walls. Certainly he had never been to another town or a mail hub. The only forests he knew were well kept gardens that never grew out wild. 

He'd only ridden a horse once, when he was very little. He was going to have to ride a horse everyday...or at least, it was advised to have or ride a horse, unless you planned on going to the places where horses couldn't. He shuttered at the thought but then his heart stilled. 

Peace washed over him. The Heart of the world cast vivid hues of cool blue and purple across the wall and Yoongi felt compelled to explain himself. “I'm going on an adventure,” he sighed, scooting across the floor. “I'll probably be gone for awhile.” He was about to say something along the lines of how weird it would be not to talk to the Heart while he was gone...but then he realized for like the six or seventh time that it was the heart of his world. The whole world. He could literally talk to it anywhere he went. Literally. 

So instead of goodbye or, a promise to return he offered “I'll see you around,” The eldest son had never been so glad to be alone in his entire life because he bent under the rail and put his ear to the glass and breathed out one last time. Perhaps if he had heard something things would have turned out differently but instead he just heard the loud thump of heartbeat like always. Comforting, but not what he wanted, not what he was looking for. 

He thought to beg. “If you tell me I'll stay,” but it wasn't true. His heart was already in the wild. Wondering what great things he could do in the wider world. So with one last sigh he left the Heart of the World behind him, shut the door to the chamber and walked out into the garden. 

They didn't have some big send off or anything. They just helped him pack, and reminded him of things he probably would have forgotten and fed him...and then argued with Heechul about start up costs. 

It came down to a hissed out “You people are keeping this whole town afloat right now, this is the least I can do. Put a good word in for me when I retire so I can move here” from the blond mailman.

Heechul was never going to retire. The guy had a bummed leg and horse older than the sun but he was still going. He could legitimately stop going on routes and live a comfortable life at home with Hangeng, he had more than enough money, but he chose to keep going on routes.

“Are you ready to go kid?” Heechul asked, reaching over the gate to tap Yoongi's narrow wrist. “Got everything?”

“Don't I need to sign this first?” Yoongi asked, pulling the ominous envelope from his father's hand. 

The mail man shrugged, “You can sign it whenever you want. No one checks,” he winked and JongKook not Yoongi as the smaller man began to open the envelope again. The paper felt rough in his hands. Was filled with unkept promises...and had probably been in Heechul's back pocked for years. It didn't want to unfold. 

Heechul, with his wry smile produced a black ball point pen and a very thin wooden plank from the bag perpetually strapped across his chest. Change was glinting in his eyes. Change and perhaps a good amount of victory. Like he had wanted this all along despite his joking manner. “You read it right?” the blond thought to ask only after Yoongi had begun to put his pen to the final line on the final page. 

“Six times,” Hani provided. “He could probably quote it to you.”

“Don't worry” Heechul said, “I'll take care of him.”

“We know,” Jihyo smiled weakly. 

Yoongi rolled his eyes. For the first time in nearly two months the mint haired man crossed to the other side of the gate. Hobi reached over and crushed him into a hug, ruining his cool exit, sobbing into his shoulder. Everyone else followed suit. Even dad. Dad mumbled out something along the lines of “make us proud” mom smacked him...it was very them. 

So then, the twenty two year old left his family behind him and walked down the drive. The ground was dusty and he could feel rocks beneath his shoes. He made a note to use the money his mother had given him to buy a pair of walking boots, and he breathed in. 

Every breath was like a new beginning; a death and a life. The whole of everything started over in just the breadth between two scarcely parted lips. Everything was different and the adventure hadn't even started yet. Well World, it's your turn, where do I start? Was the last thing he thought before he crossed from his family property into town.


	2. The North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legend of Yoongi had, in his opinion, been vastly exaggerated. It wasn't that he minded the admiration or the free food that came with his apparent passing into myth. It was mostly the rumors that really sucked.

The legend of Yoongi had, in his opinion, been vastly exaggerated. It wasn't that he minded the admiration or the free food that came with his apparent passing into myth. It was more that he got sick of hearing things about himself that even he didn't know. Often these stories held some semblance of truth that had been vastly blown out of proportion. For example, his mail from home did, in fact, have to chase rumors and inn ledgers to find him. It did not, however; get so lost that it found him years later. Or contain the tragic death of a family member. 

Both of his brothers were very much alive. As were his parents and even his sister. Sure it had been years since he had seen them, but he heard from them most every week. Even if the letters came in no particular order. They were all at least dated. 

It was also true that he had gone to a lot of uncharted places (he liked shortcuts okay? Even when they turned out to be...not so short cuts...) but it was a vast over estimation to say that he had filled in nearly an entire continent's worth of map. He would have to go much farther off the beaten trails that he did to fill in that much. He supposed it was okay for people to exaggerate that though, because he didn't share all of his map. There were some places he preferred to keep to himself; and he'd be out of a job if he gave away all of his trade secrets. 

His lifestyle was a-typical for a currier. Most people found the contracted routes they liked and made the contracts permanent. Set up a home base. Stayed around the same hub. Yoongi did not. He and Vermillion, his shaggy, currently matted up sheepdog had traveled far and wide. Taking up high risk contracts everywhere. No one place claimed him. No one place was home. He was the first of his kind. The only man with no permanent contract. He and Vern just walked from one place to the next, through jungles and forests, up steep stepped mountains where the air grew thin and down the long coastline on the other side. 

Hence the legend. 

True story, this supposed choice had come to fruition when he'd first decided upon a large dog rather than a horse and then slept through his six o'clock sharp alarm on his first day out of training. Not that it was impossible to have both a dog and a horse, really Yoongi just didn't like horses. A one hundred and twenty pound dog was hard enough to deal with. 

He remembered the panic of waking up and realizing it was nearly one in the afternoon that day. It seemed like a thousand years ago. Vern had been eight months old. Barely eighty pounds. And the freshly trained Yoongi had been perhaps a little bit more headstrong that he should have been. Drinking the night before his first day as a real currier had been a terrible idea. 

It was Vern who woke him rather than his mechanical alarm...or any of his fellow trainees. 

Traitors. 

Self serving traitors. 

Did six months of relative torture learning survival skills mean nothing? 

A wet nose to the face and a slimy tongue that smelled like dirt and rotted dog food slicked across his exposed cheek in the sticky heat. The realization that the sun was up threw him out of bed in a tizzy, falling to the rickety floor on his knees. If he'd been a scarce half an inch taller his head would have slammed into the bunk above him. 

He wound up in a heap on that floor, bedding and all, cursing at his dog and his supposed companions as he shook his head clear of sleep.

Suffices to say he'd never rolled a bed roll that quickly in all of his life. Or packed a travel pack that swiftly. Dust that hadn't been disturbed in thirty years flew behind him as he threw his ridged pack over his back and strapped Vern's travel bags on. Downside number eight billion to not having a horse, less hauling power. Oh well, he shrugged at the thought, and thanked his Goddess in the Stars that he'd had the drunken foresight to pack all of his non-bedding related items. He'd also slept in his clothes. Which was a habit he'd not shaken since. 

Racing down the stairs had his sheepdog barking loudly and chasing after him. There was a good chance it was the first time he had run that fast in his entire life...no...on second thought, it was like the third time he had run that fast in his entire life. Not that he cared to recount any of the other times. 

He sprinted through the emptiness of town until he reached the dead center. Every hub worked differently, at Heenim's the sorting building was the center of town and the contracts were passed out there. 

The commissioner gave him such a look as he rounded the corner between two driftwood buildings and approached the cracked up wooden counter. Yoongi could only see because he came in from the side, there was a crowed gathered around front. All of the big men, at least a foot taller than him, with wide shoulders and big hands. They were the ones with huge horses that finished their morning routes early once a week so they could go out on a high risk adventure of a little extra cash. That was how it worked. 

A sigh pressed through Heechul's prefect pink lips, and the younger knew that his commissioner would have had to forced out if he could hear it over the clatter all around him. There were people of all sorts back behind the counter shuffling around, passing bins filled with paper, running them rickety old conveyer belts and there were shelves from floor to ceiling in tight aisleways all with bins stuffed to bursting. The fledgeling mailman would never understand how that much mail existed in the world; or how it managed to be nearly the same at every hub (or so he had been told at that point. Big generators swooshed and pipes howled running cool air lines though vents to keep the paper safe. 

“Well,” Heechul straightened his back and shouted “All of the usual risky routes have gone out now. Thank you Chansung for taking the high pass on his way back to JYP.” 

All of the men grumbled

Yoongi's heart sank. Intellectually he had known there would be nothing left but he held out hope that maybe Heechul had set something aside for him. The older man...Heechul had always seen something in Yoongi that no body else did; it was peculiar. Perhaps it was because he and Hangeng had never had any children of their own.

Chansung stepped forward from the masses, slicked a hand through his black hair and took a pen out of his breast pocket. He actually lived and worked out of JYP, he had an exclusive contract for three of the normal routs out there but his family, Kyungsoo and his baby Sanduel, lived in Heechul's station. So he took a high risk route out and one back once a month or so. It wasn't terribly uncommon for things like that to happen in the mail currier community it seemed.

“I have one contract left,” Heechul continued with another sigh, “You all know the one, it's that time of year. It's under than name Hakyeon. It's six weeks out. Off the roads to the west and down in the jungle along the river.”

The men were grumbling again. 

Six weeks out meant six weeks back too. It meant twelve weeks in the jungle without a horse and no way to carry enough food. It meant hunting and gathering and legends of man eating fish and talking trees and yes. This was exactly what Yoongi had signed up for. Six weeks from Heechul's mail hub. Six weeks of dripping heat in the vast uncharted wilds where vines grew like snakes and snakes were as long as vines. His feet pulsed, his heart pounded and he could feel the world beneath him. He put a hand on Vern's head and straightened his back; collecting his resolve. 

The men kept grumbling. 

“Someone has to take it,” Heechul sighed, “Come on guys. Only two people have actually died on this route.” He neglected to mention that no one had ever taken it twice.

Finally Yoongi found that place inside himself that survival training had tried to snuff out. Every teacher he'd met had explicitly told him that he was not here to go on an adventure, but he was. He was here because he knew the Heart of the World and he wanted to know the rest of it. So his hand shot up, “I'll take it,” he said. 

A crackle of laughter spread through the crowed as they turned to him with wide, curious eyes. 

With a sigh of oddly impactful courage the mint-haired currier and his dog approached the counter. Despite the apparent humor the men parted ways for him. Silence began to fall (as much as it could) when he came to stand before the commissioner who had brought him here. 

“Yoongi, do you even know how to swim?” Heechul tried to ask in a hushed tone but nothing got to be hushed in the town square. For his part as a mentor he didn't seem terribly concerned outside of that. He was probably just worried about no one taking the contract. 

“Sure,” He shrugged, “I learned last week.”

The renewed laughter bit into him like a fish hook but he broke it off the line. It hung in his back stinging up it didn't stop him, “I don't see anyone else jumping up to take it.” 

And no one did. He took that contract and left that day. Fate charged out to meet him in the form of one last high risk contract, for a little town in the deep rain forest along the river. Six weeks out they said?

He'd made it in four.

Swam across the river of blood thirsty fish that weren't actually that blood thirsty, and learned that the the trees don't really talk back but the birds do. In fact, he had perhaps passed the days teaching one particularly curious red feathered beauty how to squawk out a song his mother had sung to him when he was little. The mint haired mail man had perhaps also taught said macaw how to swear...maybe.

He'd gotten lost once on that trip. Distracted by the promise of food when he was nearly four weeks out and wandered off into the deepness of the night. Everything melted together and looked the same. His heart had rammed in his chest, burning with the regret of forgetting his training. In that moment he had thought for the first time in his life that he might just die. Through his tears and desperation he felt something akin to lightness. Something like sleeping on a glass case in a cave. In a desperate bid for understanding he laid down. Ear to the ground. And listened for the Heart of the world until his feet throbbed with new direction. 

He'd never been lost since. 

The World is not such a scary place when you have stared into its heart a thousand (or a million, who knew?) times. Or when you speak to it everyday. Or when you have a big dopey sheepdog to listen when you can't. 

Not so long after getting lost he found himself standing in the square of a small town with a tall, slender, tan man named Hakyeon. Bright and wise beyond his years this man stood reminding the mint-haired currier of something his heart had often told him in the passing months. Hakyeon was the son of currier; offered jobs and routes and training from all of the largest but prestigious hubs. The older man had been offered everything most people dream of; and he'd walked away. Yoongi'd forgotten somewhere in the seriousness of the jungle that his life was his; and no one else's. He didn't want to go back the way he came. There was too much World to see. So Yoongi made the unusual choice to go south instead of back west. South was to the little hub at TS and then from there he could pick up another contract and travel east. Southeast was to the port of JYP, where Chansung came from. Yoongi had wanted to see the port since he had heard of it. He'd never imagined what boats big enough for whole villages looked like and he wanted to know. And maybe...just maybe he could do this all of the time instead of going back and forth. Maybe he didn't have to. Maybe he could just go where he wanted to.

He could get a lot of places other people couldn't; not because he was small, but because he wasn't afraid and he didn't need to go back, he didn't have to have a home base. Strange that no one had thought that before.

So here they were. Almost four years later, three and a half out of training, traveling places only he knew. Having just come off a route that took him up the high mountain pass it only seemed logical to stop in and see how things were going on the high road before he continued on his way elsewhere...wherever the next contract might take him. Yoongi was as far north as the YG mail hub. The holy bulwark of the north they called it. With more moving parts and pieces than most of the jungle hubs. In fact it was a whole city not just a mail hub or a town and Big Bang had built it from the ground up. 

Town was cold and dreary in the later hours. Seven in the evening was late by mail service standards. All of the second wave standard contracts were out by six pm so the place was ghostly quiet. Everyone had either left or holed up for the night to keep the cold out. The ground was near frozen, the air had a snap to it that gave him smoking dragons breath in the dusk. He and Vermillion were the only breathing thing out on the street. Padding along relatively unburdened was a rarity, especially in busy places, so he cherished his moment to look at the sky. The stars were bright in the mountains, glittering like silver dust against a burning blood orange stain. Painted as precious stones that would never fall loose from their finding. “It's always pretty in the sky isn't it Vern?” he asked. 

The creature in question had dragon breath too, fuming out his panting in short staggers. When Yoongi had first gotten his pup, years ago, the constant panting had alarmed him. The mint haired mail currier had thought his poor dog was over heating in the jungle humidity but it turned out Vern just loved to smile. Smile and slobber. Yoongi swore he'd never met something with so much love in its heart, except maybe the World that gave it to him in the first place. 

He rested a hand on Vern's fluffy head as the walked the desolate street. The ground was made of as many hills and valleys as the ridged spine of the mountain, dips and craters carved from sloppy footprints. Immortalized for the long haul of night where mud had begun freezing over. It crunched and snapped under his weight. 

The sorting hub there wasn't in the square, it was by the oldest inn. They all pretty much looked the same with varying degrees of extravagance, and different fixtures to suit the climates. This one was on a small stage up off the ground. The heaters were blasting, loud clanging noises erupted from behind ominous granite counter top, but the snow shields and blinds hand't been pulled so that meant someone was in. The mail currier un-hooked his dog's saddle bags and heaved them onto the counter, climbing up so he could reach over to the other side (which he had explicit permission to do) and flip the switch underneath the smooth top. Dingy yellow lights started to flicker red and he scooted backwards until his heavy boots hit the old flooring again.

There was another loud bang, metal hitting something and from the left a man stumbled out, “It's alright Dae, it's Yoongi,” the familiar older man shouted over his shoulder, flipping the switch off. 

A glimmer of recognition and relief rattled through the younger man “Hey Ji!” the mint haired mail currier exclaimed, taking in the fine features of his favorite senior in the whole of YG. Ji as in JiYong to clarify. Yes, that JiYong. Flaming red haired JiYong of legend. Not an actual dragon like myth insisted but a pretty cool guy nonetheless. 

Yoongi didn't go there terribly often but he had saved the slender commissioner's life on at least one occasion so he got to stay free in the really nice places when he wanted to. His inner twelve year old certainly did not think it was the coolest thing ever....

A smile slicked across the very human dragon's pink lips, “You are the only person that gets to put muddy mail bags on my granite counter,” He stated, grabbing at the grimy bag. The whiney candor in his voice wrestled with a laugh for a moment as he opened it and started to shuffle through the contents. 

“Anything for me?” The red haired commissioner asked. 

Yoongi shook his head, “No but I have one for Seughyun...Choi.”

“Ah good,” Ji noted, pulling a cream envelope out and turning it over in his slender hands. “Seughyun has been waiting on this one.”

A fluff of honey blond hair poked out from one of the dim lit aisles, “Hey Yoongi!” Daesung shouted and waved. 

“Get the three for Yoongi,” Ji's gentle nasal tone offered over the clattering rustle behind him. Daesung and JiYong were by no means obligated to do this part of the job anymore. Sorting mail was for trainees and retirees a lot of the time but Ji had said once that always liked it so here they worked every Wednesday after the town had emptied. Apparently it was a Wednesday. 

The muscular currier gave a thumbs up and disappeared again for a fraction of a moment and then popped aback out from another aisle of shelves and bins. The mint haired mail currier was making a desperate effort not to get too excited when he found that stations had mail for him but he always hoped somewhere in the fan mail he would find something from his family. Letters from home were his gift for a job well done. 

Daesung sauntered up behind JiYong and wrapped himself snuggly around the older man, reaching out around him with three precious envelopes. The wet smack of a kiss resounded but Yoongi was too busy looking down to notice the actual interaction. He scanned the fronts for names and found that they were, surprisingly, all from home. One from his parents, one from his sister and one seemingly from Jimin. He swore he wasn't going to cry even though his eyes began to tear up. “What, no fan mail?” he sassed. 

“Dae makes sure that gets a separate bin now,” Ji explained, laughing a little as Daesung nuzzled into the soft skin on his neck. 

“How'd you even manage to get your hands on them?” Yoongi snorted, “I hear my mail gets traded like gold these days.”

“MinJun sent up a bunch of stuff from the port,” the elder explained with a delicate shrug that didn't disturb his clinging lover in the slightest. “Chief among them, a warning that you had taken three contracts along the pass. One month each he said. I figured in Yoongi time that meant about a month and a half, two in bad weather. You always come here off the pass.”

“He sent for all of the mail you had along the coast and up the steppe up until this week,” Daesung mumbled into his beloved's shoulder. “This was what we got....well this is what we got from your family...and Jimin.”

“Jimin counts,” Yoongi affirmed, flipping the letter from his middle brother's soul mate over but he stopped short of opening it for a moment because...it wasn't from Jimin. The wax seal that held if closed was wrong for the short orange haired fireball. Hobi had always had a flare for the dramatic so he closed his letters with opalescent white wax and the imprint of a heart. Jimin's were usually red with a JM. 

The wax seals were how Yoongi's personal mail were differentiated from his fan mail. Everyone that knew him well knew to send him mail with a wax seal. 

“The address says Jimin but its from Hoseok,” the mint haired man informed as he popped the seal, “White wax.”

“Huh,” Daesung puffed, “I'll try to remember that for next time.” The way he was draped across JiYong's narrow shoulders made him look much bigger than he was. 

Yoongi did not make a habit of opening his mail in public; but he was oddly drawn to this particular letter. So he slipped the contents out in plain view of his older friends curious eyes. The first thing to hit the counter was a picture, the glossy finish caught a glare in the yellow light.

It was a picture he had taken the day he'd met Jimin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for the long hiatus. My life has been crazy. Late winter/early spring are the bussiest months of the year on the farm. Anyway! I love you all, thank you for reading and let me know what you think in the comments! I am so excited to keep moving on this story. Hopefully the next chapter wont take four months to work on.   
> Thank you for sticking with me!   
> Much Love  
> ~RFL


	3. The Tale of Jimin: Part 1 (The River)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tale of how Yoongi and Jimin had met was probably his favorite of the many absurd stories told about him; because it was rarely exaggerated. If anything, it was actually watered down for pallet-ability.

The tale of how Yoongi and Jimin had met was probably his favorite of the many absurd stories told about him; because it was rarely exaggerated. If anything, it was actually watered down for pallet-ability. And, it had, like everything else in his huge world seemed to, started with a letter. The first letter he had ever written home actually. He'd dropped it off at TS, the smallest of the jungle hubs on his way to the port of JYP for the very first time.

The first line of that first letter he'd written was. 

“Hoseok, you wouldn't believe the world we live in; it's so breathtaking.”

He remembered this so distinctly because a week later when the Port of JYP emerged from the deepness of twisted vines and darkness like a lacquered wooden beacon in the infinity of forest he'd gotten his first letter back. It was the first time but certainly not the last time that his mail had preceded him. Most mail from big cities traveled the main roads. So it beat him to his destinations when he got wanderlust and decided to run off into the woods.

With a sigh of absolute relief the young mail currier caught the salt air in his breath and found a promise of relief from the boiling heat. Everything at the edge of the forest was hot and thick beneath the beating sun. Sweat gathered on his forehead and stuck his overgrown hair to him like ivy growing up the side of a wall. When he went to move it he smeared dust across his face and puffed out some of his soreness. His joints felt like rusted hinges. Perhaps that last shortcut through the grove had not been his best idea. It was pretty but good grief had trekking across it been a chore. Wildflowers and weeds up to his chest, tangled undergrowth that caught his feet in twisted knots and roots of trees that reached up to drag him away. 

With conviction he didn't think he'd had, Yoongi pushed through the scattered crowed and walked up to the counter. The man standing on the other side of it turned to him politely running a hand through bright cinnamon hair. He had skepticism written all over his narrow face had stared wide eyed through his strangely round glasses at a dirty and very exhausted Yoongi. When the young mail currier announced himself and handed in his contract from a tiny township near TS a gasp shuttered through the heavy air. Apparently the rumor of his death had spread much more quickly than he had anticipated. Can't a guy swim across a river of apparently terrifying man eating fish without a rumor starting? Eesh. Those nosey fisherman should have kept their mouths shut. 

“Yoongi?” The stranger repeated back, “Yoongi of Heechul's tutelage, from The Heart?”

“Hi,” the smaller man waved with his very matted up Vermillion panting and slobbering by his side, “You are?”

“Hi,” the other smiled, extending a polite hand out over the counter, “Minjun. Jun.K professionally. I don't own the place, I just run it.” He also managed to toss his head over his shoulder and scream “Yoongi from the Heart!” Out into the stacks behind him, while simultaneously taking Yoongi's completion envelope out from under the counter with his free hand. High risk contract completions tended to get left out front because they were so few. 

The second that Yoongi reached out and took that offered hand to shake the elder snapped back around give it a firm, almost bone-crushingly tight, squeeze and leaned over the exquisitely cool granite counter. “It's rare to meet people from my home town out this far. Welcome.” 

Behind him a young lady with long black hair appeared; her features were rather nondescript in comparison to the brightly colored paper in her perfectly manicured hands. 

“Four.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” Minjun said. 

Before he could even stop to think Yoongi had “You wouldn't happen to be looking for a Hoseok would you?” spilling out of his mouth and then very quickly had to add, “My brother Hoseok is looking for a Jimin.”

She laughed brightly, covering her wide smile with a fan of letters, “No, sorry, I'm looking for a Kevin. If you ever meet one send it my way.”

The mint haired mailman smiled sheepishly as a blush crept across his already heat reddened cheeks.

“It's sweet of you to help him look,” Jimin said, passing the mail to Minjun, “There are an abundance of Jimin in this world.”

Yoongi had almost forgotten his manners as he finally released his captive hand from that of JYP's apparent commissioner. He started to search for the zipper on Vern's mossy, muddy, torn up bags to get his spare change out when that very same hand he'd just let go of stopped him. 

“Hometowners don't pay.”

“Wont the mob be kind of angry if I get freebies?” Yoongi asked. 

“Pft. The mob doesn't mess with kids that swim across dangerous rivers just to deliver some mail.”

The younger man decided not to make any comments about how mail wasn't a trivial matter. Instead he offered. “Has everyone heard about that?” The mint mail currier sighed and let his snark edge in, “It could be a lie you know. There are a lot of crazy rumors out there.”

The older man grabbed his hand again, turned the palm up and shoved the letters and the contract completion envelope into it, “If Jackson had been the one running around telling that story, not Mark, I would take you at your word but Mark never tells tall tales. If you need anything around here all you have to do is ask for it river boy.”

That was the first actual time he'd found himself without a witty comeback. There was only shock and the discomfort of knowing that he was only a baby at this job and somehow all of the men around him were looking down at him with this weird awe. No one had ever been in awe of him before...except maybe Hakyeon, Wonshik, and Taekwoon when they'd spotted him and his ragged dog wandering into their little Jellyfish township on the Starlight River...also maybe Heechul and the entire crowed of terrifying men when he'd taken that contract...and perhaps his parents when he said he was leaving. Okay, a lot of people had looked at him with awe recently but he was still not used to it.

“Thanks...” Yoongi offered distractedly. 

“Minjun,” the elder reminded. 

The younger had not forgotten the cinnamon haired commissioners name, he was just distracted thinking about how he'd gotten to this place and how he would never get used to tall muscly men looking down on him with admiration because it was kind of intimidating but also kind of awesome.

That's when the “Wait a minute,” came, “Minjun? Your name is Minjun?” He asked.

“That's the name my mother gave me...sort of...thats a long story. Professionally people just call me Jun.K.”

“If you're looking for a Wonshik, he lives in the Jellyfish township. He goes by Ravi.”

Okay, he was kind of starting to like the stunned faces. It helped that Jun.K was absolutely beautiful, his face was soft and rounded even with the make up that carved out lines where his cheekbones should be, his chocolate eyes were so wide they looked like they might just pop out and a pink tint started to spread across his nose. 

“Ra-ravi's real name is Wonshik?”

He found out much later that Ravi and Jun.K had been writing each other for years and never knew; they'd even branched out from professional letters to personal letters without ever mentioning that they had separate names for work. 

A smile cracked across Yoongi's warm face as he turned to walk away from the counter. It was hours yet before the next contracts would be out and even if they were he didn't particularly need one right away. He had enough money to sit around for a few days if he wanted to so he was going to find something to eat and stroll the docks. He'd never seen a ship from the ocean before; just ones from the river. 

The road there at the old gate was wide and beaten down by hooves. Jovial mail curriers smiled and waved at him from their carts as they clopped down the street with squeaking wooden wheels. He chose to make slow progress with Vern's broad shoulder knocking against his knee. When they finally crested the hill and the forest disappeared behind him everything changed. 

The trees parted and all but disappeared in the ramble of clay houses that were built into the hillside, painted bright, glistening like stones along a the bottom of a creek. A maze of old cobbled roads began at the edge of the dirt and lead sharply down to the coast. The skyline almost took his breath away, bright blue speared upon the points of enormous wooden masts that rose up even above the tallest of those clay buildings. 

Yoongi chose to do that which he always did when he was entering a completely new part of the world. He stopped, took his shoes off and sat down on the side of the road where there was still grass that he could wiggle his toes in. Sometimes he could feel life blood beneath him. Deep comfort was pulsing up through the soles of his feet as he slid them around in humid slicked greenery.

“Well, we made it didn't we?” he said to himself and maybe to the grass, or perhaps something under the it. With a huff and a sigh and very little effort he fell backwards and stretched out against the softness of the world beneath him, arched his back, pressed his shoulders in and breathed out his wonderful journey to replace it in his heart with this new destination. 

Vern wandered off for a moment and then wandered back throwing himself at the ground in a great heap of fluff and slobber and dirt. The great beast rolled around for a moment with his tongue hanging out before he finally settled into resting. With giant sheepdog's head in his lap Yoongi, rolled onto his stomach opened his letter from home and chucked to himself as he read the first couple of lines.

It read;

“Yoongi, it would be a better world with fewer Jimin's in it. I'm never going to find the right one at this rate.” 

Hoseok had a talent for taking the wonder out of everything and turning his mint haired brother's poetry into something absurd; especially on weeks when he'd met another Jimin that was not his Jimin...which was almost every week. There really was an overabundance of Jimin in the world. Jimin? Jimins? Jimini? Was there a proper plural form for Jimin?

They fell asleep on the side of that road with warm sun beating down from the sky and the faintness of an ever present heartbeat somewhere in the ground. A lullaby was made by angry bugs that buzzed around in the short weeds. The persistent jingle and creak of old wooden wheels mixed with the gentle clopping of both shod and unshod horses and Yoongi felt overpowered by the sheer number of people. He hadn't even made it to town yet and he was already tired of it. Despite not having been alone in the wilderness for that long but he already knew that he preferred it.

It was some time later when a very very loud, husky voice shouted, “Heeeeeyyyy, it's river dude! You alright river dude?” He recognized it vaguely but didn't put much thought into it as his groggy brain tried to catch up.

“Maybe all of the walking killed him,” ...That voice. There was something impactful and overwhelmingly earthy about it. Deep but soft like gentle reeds pushing against the wind. It had him soaked to the bone with a memory in seconds and struggling to keep his head above water.

Crossing that river...had actually very nearly killed him. Cold water dragged his clothes down and his oil slicked, waterproof mail bags had been hard to balance. There was water in his nose and sputtering out his lips. Half way across he started to question his choice. That's when the fishing boat had come down. 

“MARK THERE'S A DUDE IN THE RIVER!” cut through the air crackling and booming its away across the water. 

“What you mean like a body?” the soft voice that presumably belonged to Mark contrasted. There was an accent to it? Kind of like Amber's. His words sounded almost muffled and they curled together like languid calligraphy scrawled out with strong hands. Everything melted instead of snapping. He came to know later that there was nothing at all sharp about Mark, the way he spoke reflected that. 

Yoongi tried to roll on his back to float like Amber had taught him but he really just ended up flailing for a quick second and catching a glimpse of the old mahogany river boat in the bubbles and waves of his own splashing. 

“Holy...” Mark gasped. 

“Hey river dude!” the sharper voice screamed. “River dude! You need a ride.”

“I'm fine thanks,” Yoongi sputtered back trying to paddle his way to the other shore. In retrospect, once again, traversing a river that was nearly eight miles wide on his own had probably not been the wisest of choices but the only way to become a stronger swimmer was to swim right?

“You don't look fine dude,” the annoying voice without a name continued. 

“Jeckson,” The weight and swooping curl of Mark's voice turned the presumed a into an e. 

Apparently the loud voice did have a name. 

“Starboard!” the man apparently named Jackson with the raspy, husky voice screamed, “Sorry, left. Bank left. There's a sandbar like twenty feet to the left.”

Sure enough, one look to the left showed him a little bit of sort of solid ground right in the middle of everything. The mint-haired mailman took as deep a breath as he could manage, closed his eyes and swam for all he was worth until his hands hit something muddy and he could rip and tear at slimy reeds. With a great heave and a loud slosh of anguish he threw himself at the bank, slapping his sheepdog's dirty bag down next to him. 

The continued shouting from both strangers was washed out by the white noise of his own muscles burning for a split second before Yoongi sprang to his feet waterlogged with eyes blurry, searching the river for the one thing he'd forgotten in that moment, “Vern?” he called, “Vermillion?”

His view down stream was obstructed by the creaking old fishing vessel. It was narrow bodied but long, and big enough for a crew of four

“OVER HERE!” A sweet young man shouted waving his arms high in the air above his pale ashy-blond hair. “Sheepdog right? He's here.” So that was Mark with the curling words. His soft jawline, narrow slopping shoulders, and warm eyes matched his voice well. 

There beside him Vern looked a bit like a weed that had washed up on the shore...but he also didn't seem to mind that he looked like that because he was still smiling like this was the best thing to have ever happened in life.

Yoongi's attention was drawn to a flash of bright silver hair. Jackson contrasted Mark almost starkly from sharp angle of his jawline and the broad width of his shoulders. “He would have been fine. He's a much better swimmer than you are.”

A hand slapped across the silver haired man's apparently solid chest with a smack, “Jeckson,” the smaller man scolded, “Don't be rude.” 

“Ow,” The taller grumbled, looking almost comically offended, crinkling his brow and holding his apparently sore breast. 

“Yah. Turn us would you,” The blonde ordered. 

“Right,” Jackson lit up, exaggerated injury forgotten as he ran off into the ropes and nets that were pilled up on the deck. “Don't worry river dude! We're coming. We'll save you.”

“Yoongi,” the currier offered in return, “And I don't need saving.” 

He knew very little about sailing, just enough to pilot a little one man rowboat really, and that wasn't sailing at all. Watching the two men aboard dance around each other to swing the mast was fascinating.There was a lot of shouting, most of it from Jackson. At some point Mark disappeared bellow deck only to reappear as they were nearing the sand. 

They dropped anchor about fifteen feet from where Yoongi stood explaining that they didn't want to run aground. Vern jumped ship and swam at just the V at the start of his name when his mailman called him. He ran full speed off the deck and slammed into the water with all the grace of a bird flying into a brick wall. 

When he came ashore he shook off, soaking a sort of-almost-maybe trying to dry Yoongi and wiggled so hard he almost fell over. Since the soaked sheepdog didn't have a tail he just wiggled his whole body instead. 

The mint haired mail man rubbed his dog up and down and sucked in a breath of moderate exhaustion. He probably should have caught some food before embarking on an eight mile swim. He was considering his options, like swimming back to shore, when something hit the ground beside him. 

It was a backpack. “Clean clothes, for the other side,” Jackson offered, pulling back the large hooked pole he had apparently dropped it on.

“Here,” Mark nudged holding out a second hooked pole with rusted tin box hanging off of it “Some fish. It should feed you for a few days. And some bottled spring water so you won't have to boil any tonight.”

Yoongi stood completely speechless staring at his dog, the tin box and a backpack of supplies. He wasn't sure what to say...or how he was gong to carry that with his mail bags in tow. 

“Inside the backpack there's a tiny raft you can inflate. It's big enough for your bags.,” Mark explained. “The river is calm enough, that it shouldn't drag you down stream.”

“We'd offer a ride but you seem alright. And we gotta make a living,” the silver haired man shrugged. “I'm Jackson by the way, and this is Markipoo,” 

“Actually its just Mark...” the other informed, “Jeckson is just weird and loud.”

“I have a brother like that,” Yoongi shrugged. 

“You're lucky he's just a brother not a soulmate,” the blonde said. 

“Maaaaark,” Jackson whined. “How could you say that?”

“Thanks for the help,” Yoongi admitted reluctantly. He wasn't used to people actually wanting to help him. Mail people could be a little cut throat trying to get routes faster. 

“You would have been fine,” Mark winked, “We jus' help where we can.”

“How can I replay you?” The mint haired mailman asked; because he didn't usually live in a world that ran on favors. 

“Are you headed to Jellyfish?” Jackson asked. 

“Sure am.”

“Good! There are letters for N and the boys in the backpack. Deliver them and we're square river dude.”

“Yoongi,” he reminded, “My name's Yoongi.”

The goodbyes included, “Be safe river dude, don't turn into fish food.” and “If you're ever in the Port of JYP look us up.” There was also a “The fish only bite if you're already bleeding man.” Somewhere in there. 

Standing on a the edge of that river looking back the world was loud and beautiful. His bare feet sank into the rich mud between gnarled tree roots. The jungle behind him smelled green I contrast to the murky blue that had been filling his nose for hours.

He'd made it. The mint haired mailman had swum across the unswimable river. In that moment he wasn't Yoongi the Mail Currier he was Yoongi the unsinkable. Yoongi the defender of paper; the definition of determined. Yoongi would touched man eating fish and snakes the size of trees. Lungs burning, eyes watering, sky bright and ground humming. He was alive. Every muscle in his body ached; and he had miles yet to go but he was alive and breakable. Nothing in the history of his existence had prepared him for what it felt like to stand on solid ground triumphant.

Victory was his that day.

The whole world was his. Wild and lovely and breathtaking. He remembered trailing the pads of his fingers against slick bark and walking for as long as he could without shoes just so he could feel the ground beneath him.

His breath turned to smoke on his tongue as he pressed out the memory and sat up in the grass to face the fisherman that had saved him up close. 

"Hey," was the only greeting he offered.

"Good to see you dry man," Jackson smiled like the sun he was blocking.

"Good to see you," Mark agreed.

"I thought for sure you'd been eaten by a snake until Marky saw that carved stake you left in the ground," the silver haired man continued.

“Yeah thanks for that,” Mark said, “I was kind of worried about you.”

"Are you headed into town?" Yoongi asked, turning his face from the taller to the smaller.

"Yeah. We were here to pick up mail that got sent to the wrong hub." The port of JYP it turned out, had three mail centers, the one he was at was the north entrance to town, just past an old town gate made of salt sprayed boards. There was also one right on the docks and another in the center of town.

"Does that happen often here?"

"More often than we would like," the blond admitted with an out of place shrug and a hand offered out. 

When Yoongi took it he was pulled swiftly too his feet. “Wow, you're a lot stronger than you look.” Came spilling out his mouth before he had a chance to stop it and he reached up to cover it and apologize but he was stopped. 

“Thenk you,” Mark nodded. The blonde looked younger close up, much younger and shorter surprisingly but Yoongi often assumed people would be taller than he was. Mark was only had a couple of inches on him. 

“You need a ride in?” the young fisherman asked.

With a sigh of relief the mail man looked over his new friend's narrow shoulder and saw the horses. Gypsy Vanners. Broad and gorgeous with fetlocks that curled draped over their hooves all around. Well washed and brushed. They looked like show horses not working horses. The kind that offer carriage rides to wealthy gentries. One was bright grey with a pitch black mane, tail, and fetlocks. The other was a stunning midnight black horse with a flaxen mane, tail and fetlocks. Evidence of their exertion wasn't readily apparent but upon moderate scrutiny the luxurious hair that grew from their legs down over their hooves had gotten dusty on the ride and sweat had soaked in around their harasses. Their regalia was uniform with brass rings and fine black leather that was polished and lacked the cracks or sun-staining of old equipment. It was starkly at odds with the banged up old cart that was split and faded with wear and weather. The back behind the apparent driver was wide open, with bits of canvas hanging from nails where it had been torn off. 

“Sure.” Yoongi shrugged. He came to the realization after he'd agreed to accept that Jackson had been talking the whole time despite the fact that not even Vern was paying attention to his rambling.

His introduction to the coach driver had gone something like: "Yoongi, Youngjae: Youngjae, Yoongi." Mark offered, gesturing between the two. Youngjae had black hair and small eyes but he smiled over his shoulder with a nod.

Yoongi had been expecting a hello in return for his "hey" and maybe a handshake since he offered his after he heaved himself into the back with Jackson and a couple of mail bags.

Instead a slack jawed horse driver spewed out "That is a MASSIVE Sheepdog. Like...wow, is he part mastiff?"

Caught off guard in that moment his period got replaced by a question mark at the end of his intended statement, "No?"

"Youngjae breeds dogs," Jackson explained, climbing in behind. 

"Sheepdogs?"

"Ratters and ship dogs mostly," Youngjae said. His statement was punctuated but the loud bark of an exceptionally tiny white dog sitting in Mark's lap.

“Coco,” Mark whispered pointing to the little creature with long ears.

"But I have sheepdogs,” Youngjae continued, “so we have puppies every now and again,They don't sell well in town but when the shepherds come down from the steppe I can do good business. I've never seen one as a mail dog before. Don't mailmen usually have horses and retrievers?"

"Horses out in the jungle?" Yoongi laughed, “I think not. And the retrievers weren't as cute.”

Mark laughed; Youngjae whistled and the cart heaved forward. 

The ride into town was bumpy and loud and filled with laughter. Vermillion padded along the side at a jog with his tongue out like always. His hair bounced and dipped with the curves of the stones while the horses walked slowly, pulling just hard enough to keep the momentum.

There were so many conversations had that Yoongi would be hard pressed to remember what all was exchanged in that first ride. Since that first time he was almost always met at the gate by his friends when he entered the port and given a ride into town. Largely because he always fell asleep on the side of the road, which gave the news of his arrival enough time to travel to the Inn. 

Speaking of the Inn; the soft pink and stark white trim of its outside walls had alerted him in advance to the events that were about to transpire. “I think this place it too rich for me guys,” he commented as the cart came to a halt outside a large, incredibly well kept stable in the middle of the city. “Just look at my dog, he's a mess. I'm a mess. I don't have money to stay here.”

“Nonsense River dude,” Jackson puffed throwing a thick arm over the mailman's shoulder, “You're a house guest.”

“I'll groom your dog,” Youngjae volunteered, “Please? I love washing dogs. I'll do it for free. He'll look like a city dog in no time.” 

The phrase city dog confused him but he shook it off. 

“It wont even last a day,” Yoongi admitted, “But if you think you can handle him, go for it.” after a small second thought he added, “I-I do brush him you know?” sheepishly as a blush painted his cheeks. 

 

“No judgment man,” the silver haired fisherman had said and that had effectively ended the discussion...well that and Jackson taking his backpack off the floor while Mark grabbed Vern's saddle bag and slung it over his shoulders.

As the mint haired mail man dismounted a taller man with red hair came out of the barn and started talking to Youngjae about the horses while they worked to unload the mail. Yoongi grabbed a couple of bags himself and followed the other boys up the oddly quite front steps with his sheepdog trailing close behind. 

Walking into that building was ten thousand times more nerve wracking and intimidating than the big men that he competed for contracts with. The stairs had railing. Not a single board on the porch was warped. No cracked eaves, no rusty hinges, no broken gate. In Yoongi's life the only thing he had known to be as well kept as that inn was the chamber that held the Heart. The bright white door had windows in it, and it didn't make a sound when it was pushed open. 

It opened to a two story vault in the lobby, with bright open air and glistening metal fixtures and more things than the mint haired mail man could describe in one go. Rich patterned furniture, perfectly polished floors. POLISHED FLOORS. The air smelled so clean that the poor mail currier felt the need to shower before stepping any further in.

“Welcome to GOT SevInn,” a voice echoed through the warm void fighting with the crackle of a distant fireplace. “Oh,” it remarked after a moment, “it's just you.”

“Good to see you too Bambam,” Jackson snarked back. “It's not like we brought your mail or anything.”

“This is way too rich for me,” the mint haired man fretted. 

“What part of 'house gues'' do you not get?” Mark whispered under the echoed play fight Jackson and Bambam had gotten into, “We've got you Yoongi and you're pretty dog too.”

“You live here?” the mail currier marveled.

“My brother and I own it together,” he shrugged, “Jeckson and I catch the fish for the restaurant and sometimes do other things.”

“WAIT YOU BROUGHT RIVER DUDE?!” A scream of apparent shock that kind of sounded like anguish shattered the peaceful conversation. Whoever Bambam was he had managed to scream louder than Jackson. 

“I thought you were a myth,” the voice belonged to a tall baby faced man with brown hair and really REALLY nice lips.

“So did I,” Yoongi sassed, offering out his hand to the newcomer, “Yoongi.”

“Dude,” Bambam said, looking at Jackson with puppy dog eyes, “I so wish I was looking for a Yoongi.”

The words, “Don't we all,” slipped through his lips and all of his anxieties about this place melted away because he was Yoongi, the man, the myth, the mail deliver. If he was going to be in a ritzy inn with a bunch of snobby gentry he was going to belong there. 

The inn had a good mix of patrons actually; mostly because Bambam managed the front desk and liked the looks on aristocratic faces when fisherman passed by smelling like ocean. Honestly, that kid with his attitude would make a good mail currier. He was made of sass. 

Hours later - bathed, fed and faced with a strange dog that looked vaguely like his - he fell asleep in the softest bed he had ever slept in and dreamt of wild places that smelled of honeysuckle and wild lavender where he could sleep with his ear to the ground instead of a duck feather stuffed pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact; every time I write a chapter of this it splits into two chapters. Also I love bad puns and crack shipping and I have clearly CLEARLY been listening to Mark's voice too much lately.


	4. The Tale of Jimin: Part 2 (The Port)

The city that composed the Port of JYP seemed to Yoongi to have a rapturous split right down the middle of it. From the gate to the square everything was calm and peaceful with old stone roads and buildings painted in jewel tones. He avoided the heavy traffic on the roads, all of the carts and carriages carrying goods and people had been slowing him down immensely on his way to the central hub. It was easier to walk through the narrow alleyways with a very clean Vermillion in tow. 

It was claustrophobic but the young mail currier couldn't help smiling as he dragged his feet across un-even cobbles. One hand on Vern, one on the shoulder strap of his significantly less-filthy backpack. JB , the owner of GOT SevInn had insisted upon washing most of Yoongi's belongings. Even his shirt and pants were clean for the first time in months. The young Innkeeper apparently didn't have the same appreciation for dirt that most mail people did. 

Finally the alleyways opened. A rush of air greeting the mail man where his feet stopped. Fresh air seemed so hard to come by with the tightly packed buildings. The smells of food and heat from ovens had been all fine and good but the salt air that rose now was worth every penny Yoongi had ever earned. His eyes took in the paved open space, and the rusting iron tables that were scattered about until they landed on the fountain. 

Everyone in the world knew about that fountain. It wasn't anything structurally impressive. No great artist had carved a human form, or made an intricately detailed ship out of glass or silver. It had been built by simple men, stone by stone. 

As the story went, each time a ship made land every member of its crew added a stone from their homeland, no matter how small, until it towered and glistened like the sun itself with exotic gemstones. A beacon in the distance for weary sea farers. The pumps and tubes that had glistening sea water spilling out of the cracks like a natural waterfall had been added much later. 

It was even bigger than he had ever imagined it, and looked like the patchwork quilts people often left as gifts for the Heart. 

 

His progress through the square was suddenly slowed, the urgency he'd felt in getting there evaporated like smoke on the not so distant mountains. 

“Shall we sit?” he asked, but Vern was already way ahead of him, flopped down on the dirty ground smiling like this was the best day ever, because to a sheepdog, everyday was the best day ever. 

There were some whistles from the men surrounding the hub, a little bit of clatter to start out but it diffused as Yoongi sat down in a rusted metal chair. He deflated into it, melted into mush as the spray from the fountain misted his sun-soaked skin. 

Beyond the fountain and the subdued mid afternoon bustle of the central mail hub he could hear the ruckus in the fish markets and dared not even venture a guess about the great calamity that was likely coming from the docks. Everything beyond him, out in the market areas was a little more broken down. Tarps and canvases covered made roofs over stalls. 

“Hey kid!” Cracked like glass across the wide expanse, effectively shattering his silence and a good portion of his cheerful mood. 

When he turned his head the mint haired mail man knew there was ice in his glare. It was surprising, even to him, that he managed a fairly cordial, “Yes sir?”

The voice on the other end of his rage belonged to an older man standing behind grey stone counter of the central mail hub. The building behind the counter was old and twisted up; gnarled and built, seemingly, of old shipwreck salvage in places. The man peering out had beady black eyes, a big forehead, and a naturally upturned nose that reminded Yoongi a little bit of a short snouted dog he had met once. “Pssst I'm, JYP,” the stranger whispered obnoxiously loudly. 

It was clear what this odd person had said as he raked a hand through his greasy, thinning black hair but the mailman still let a baffled “What?” slip through his teeth. Because...what?

“JYP,” the stranger whispered again, cleared his throat and offered, “It's me,” at a normal tone followed by another raspy whisper of “JYP.”

The many who had declared himself JYP cleared his throat again and took a normal tone, “I haven't seen you around before.”

“I'm one of Heechul's kids,” the currier explained. 

A shrill whistle pierced the air, floating over the crashing water of the fountain “You're a long way from home, greenie.”

Yoongi chuckled bitterly in response “Was that about my hair or how experienced you think I am?”

“If you're looking for contracts to take you back up the river, there's nothing left.” The older man completely ignored the question and just continued on with his tirade, “There's nothing on the main roads for up north either. You might be out of luck entirely. I hope you have a nice place to stay for the week.”

The mint haired man was finally annoyed enough to stand, letting metal scraped across stone with a screech. “If I wanted to go back up the river I wouldn't need a contract to get me there,” the younger man said. 

“A mailman who'd wander without pay,” JYP chuckled, “that's one I've never heard before.”

With a deep drag of salt air that turned into a sigh the younger man smirked and walked up to the polished counter. “Since you're so concerned about my financial well being why don't you show me what you've got up front?”

In a peculiar display of sudden concern wherein the man behind the counter contorted himself to gaze around at the empty square with suspicion written across his brow. This of course made Yoongi curious so he craned his neck and looked around as well. When he looked back a neatly tied up parcel had appeared in front of his folded arms. 

“I assumed by the hair and stature that you're the Yoongi that Heechul sent this for.”

With wide eyes and skepticism the mint mail currier unfolded himself to put his hands on the counter. How on earth would Heechul know where he was headed. 

“There's a letter too,” the older man offered in the confusion, handing it to Yoongi so respectfully that he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

It started with I was so glad to hear that you made it alive and safely to the other side, which made the smaller man tear up a little despite himself. When he scanned the contents of it as quickly as possible he gathered that Heechul had gotten word from Youngguk of TS of his progress towards the coast. The parcel contained a camera it said. So naturally he ripped it open to check. Sure enough it was the kind that his mother had often used for people when they came to see the Heart. The kind that shot out self developing Polaroids. It didn't seem like a practical thing to carry on his way so he picked the discarded letter up and continued reading it as he rolled the plastic object in his free hand. 

The last paragraph was where is soul sank deep into the rocks beneath his feet not because it hurt but because it took the weight of his choice out from under him and that was the only thing holding him bound.

Yoongi, most of us don't get to go on big wild adventures. You made the chance for yourself. Don't waste it. Don't come home to stay home. Don't come home at all until you're ready. See the world. Love the people. Do what the rest of us are afraid to do. Just try send pictures back when you can. If you need film cartridges just ask at the counter. I've sent some to every place I could think to. 

~Big Space Commissioner Heenim

P.S. I've always wanted to go North on the high road. I hope you'll think of me while you're there.

After a good minute of feeling weightless and confused he looked up at the black haired, pug-nosed commissioner before him with a new respect “Do you have anything that'll take me farther North on the high road?” he asked. 

With a smile that made his eyes disappear the man looked behind him and yelled out “BLOCK B,” and then he reached under the counter to pull out a contract. “This'll take you up the steppe to the mountain ridge. They'll have stuff to send you farther inward to YG. I think You'll like YG.” 

He winked as he pushed it forward with one hand and tossed the wrapping paper for the parcel with the other. “It's been under the counter for three weeks, no one wants to take it because the timeframe is a little tight. Four months.”

Yoongi wasn't even listening really, he was reading and before he'd even reached the bottom to see how much money he'd earn he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed. The ink pad was offered to him silently and he put his thumb print beside his name. 

JYP, whose name was Jinyoung by the way—it was on the contract, passed him a total of thirteen letters and six small packages in one medium sized mail bag. The bag he traded back in and put the mail in the bags he already had. Mail bags, he had noticed, get in the way a lot. And there was no dog sided saddle bag option. Despite vern being the size of a small horse he was not. Yoongi decided he should talk to Heechul about dog sized saddle bags in his next letter. 

With all that in tow the walk through the fish market was a slow crawl. Well...it would have been anyway. The market was heavy laden with merchants of all kinds. There were, quite possibly, more people than fish. Everything was filled to bursting like a balloon ready to pop. Vermillion was ecstatic but also very unhappy. Despite his inability to keep his slobbering tongue in his mouth that dopey sheepdog still knew better than to snatch anything off of the many ice covered tables in the two block grid they were pushing through. Passers-by kept giving the panting horse-dog sideways glares despite the fact that there were strays eating the cast off everywhere. 

It also bordered on smelling too much like the ocean. Salt air was one thing but briny, slimy fish were entirely another and they were everywhere. The mint haired mail man had never been to the ocean before but he imagined that it smelled a lot like the stuff that came out of it. Just like the rivers. 

Yoongi made it to one of the old public docks sometime around late afternoon. The sun was over the water casting a blazing glitter of a glare off the waves as they rippled. It was too deep for them to crash there except on the poles that held the wooden walkways. It was almost hard to look at. Boards creaked in angry protest beneath his weight and sharp sheepdog nails made dull clacking sounds. 

A handful of other people were milling about but no one paid him any mind. He did fit in a little with the bags in hand. Everyone seemed to be carrying something. 

He was about half way down when, like a heavenly chorus three irate sailors screamed out “JIMIN!” in rapid succession. This, of course, veered him off course...which, truthfully was just the end of the long boardwalk anyway so just about anything could have done it. But Yoongi was a moth to a flame every-time he heard the name Jimin. Maybe he didn't have a soulmate but he could help Hobi in his companion quest right?

The ship Yoongi approached was fairly small in comparison to the massive creatures around him. In fact it was barely twice the size of Mark and Jackson's little fishing boat and there was nothing of note about it. It sported a plain mast not a wildly carved mahogany one and the bow bore no decrative merperson. Plain in every sense of the word. Surely it couldn't be built for more than ten men. Two of whom were out on the deck sighing and piling plain rope. Because everything deserved the word plain. 

Or it had until, the little mail currier yelled, “Excuse me, but is your Jimin looking for a Hoseok?” over the creaking and the groaning and the sloshing of water.

The two men turned around and suddenly it was clear that the ship could be as plain as it wanted to be. 

“Sorry what did you ask?” The one with big brown eyes and deep red hair asked back in a voice that somehow matched the salt in the air. His jawline was square and defined and his shoulders were generous in width. He was wearing en enormous grew coat that swept the deck and looked wholly unfit for sailing but it was gorgeous. 

“Is your Jimin looking for a Hoseok?” Yoongi asked back. 

The man took a step forward, probably to hear better. Solitary jungle wandering mailmen are not the loudest of creatures. That step forward didn't go so well though. It was like watching a kitten try to walk along the edge of a fish tank; even the most practiced delicacy had its limits and one day that cat would fall in. The stranger took a nosedive and caught himself on the edge of the deck's railing with a sharp “oof” as he smacked into the side of the vessel. 

The other, presumably younger, erupted into a violent gale of laughter that echoed so loudly Yoongi wondered if Jackson would ask him about it later. 

As he settled down he flipped his ocean blue hair into a hard left part and ran a hand along his rounded jawline. "Wonjun why do you even have that thing? It's so impractical." 

"Because I look amazing in it," the red haired man huffed out as he pulled himself up struggling against the bulk of his jacket. 

"Yeah, when you're standing still. The rest of the time you look like a child who has stolen his father's coat.”

Yoongi decided right then and there that he liked this person. This person was very sassy. That asside he raised his hand and shouted, “Excuse me!” again. 

Both men turned back sharply. 

“I heard you scream for a Jimin?”

“Yeah, cutie” the blue haired one without a name winked when he called back, “We've got one.”

And then he turned his head over his shoulder and spat out, “JIMIN SOME MAILMAN WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A HOSEOK!”

There was a loud metallic sound like chains rattling as they slammed into solid wood. A shock of orange hair emerged from bellow deck. The person attached to it had a blazingly bright smile that enveloped his eyes and caught the sun off the waves. His skin was a gentle sailors tan. He looked like daylight on the high sea and he was running down the ramp right towards Yoongi screaming “Hoseok did you finally find me?!”

No way. There was NO way this was happening. The mailman had no time get out of the way. He was just faced the choice to either jump into the ocean or been awkwardly embraced by his brother's probably soulmate? 

Oh but it was better than that. He almost got kissed. Yoongi reeled back so fast he tripped on his own feet and ended up bent backwards over his solid table of a sheepdog. It clearly would have been slobbery and gross and probably would have felt a little like that time that Namjoon and he had kissed him on a dare when they were kids. 

Jungkook had been furious for weeks, and where Jungkook's fury was mostly silent Hobi's would be wrathful and whiny which were two thing's the mint haired mailman didn't want in his life. 

“Not me,” Yoongi explained at the hurt shock on the strange Jimin's strong face. “My brother.”

“I'm Yoongi,” he added after a thick pause. “Hoseok is my younger brother. He lives in a town called The Heart.”

In the apparent ruckus a thundering crowed had begun to gather. Or at least spectate from the surrounding vessels. 

The blue haired man came speeding down the ramp and grabbed Jimin by the arm; pulling the smaller man back. “I am terribly sorry mister mailman,” he said, “Our Jimin is a little...enthusiastic.”

After another pause the much taller man offered out and hand and said “Suwoong, by the way. Youngest member of the crew.” Which was not a thing most people admitted to openly but this character was owning it.

Yoongi took that hand and straightened himself. His grey four legged companion made a sighing noise and shook himself off in the salt air. 

“Come on in,” Suwoong offered, “This isn't the kind of place you want a lot of wandering ears.”

He was young and inexperienced so he followed the ushering crew member up the ramp, across a short expanse of debris ridden deck and into the cabin. In retrospect he probably would have been wiser not to go inside like that. Not because anything bad happened but because caution was advisable in situations like that. Yoongi was usually a skeptical individual, but the full weight of finding a Jimin that was looking for a Hoseok had taken over the part of his brain that would usually tell him that it was a bad idea to follow a group of strangers onto their ship. 

The cabin was the only above deck room. It was small and stuffy and wooden. Everything in it was wooden. From the benches to the table to the uncomfortable looking bunk that was off to the far left. 

It turned out that the ship was called the Boy's Republic; it's five regular crew members and its Jimin, who was a cabin boy of sorts, were...well...to be honest they were pirates. Not really the good kind of pirate either, but not irredeemably evil either. They were mail men of sorts too. The laws governing international waters were so murky that pirates were some of the only people that could take mail contracts across it. Yoongi added it to his list of things to try. 

Not the piracy, the mail across the sea thing. It sounded like fun. And he lacked a loyalty contract so technically he could. 

The mint-haired mailman was introduced to the members of the crew one by one. They promptly launched into a discussion about whether or not to let Jimin out of his four year crew term while they were still introducing themselves. It was had to keep up but the gist of it seemed to be that Jimin was only on year two and behind on paying his boarding fees at that. There was a lot of arguing about money. 

“I hate this city,” Sunwoo scoffed his auburn hair was distracting against the soft lines of his face, “Everytime we make port we find someone's soulmate.”

“Mark was an awful pirate,” Suwoong snorted.

“But he was a good fisherman,” OneJunn—the sort of bumbling, very sweet, probably not well suited to be a pirate, captain countered. 

“He was on year three and just as behind and Jimin is and we let him go,” Minsu pointed out. 

“Jackson paid for him,” Onejunn said, “Can you pay for him?” 

All eyes turned to Yoongi and he shrugged, “You haven't given me a number.”

Suwoong snorted, Minsu rolled his eyes and Jimin ran a hand through is striking orange locks, “If you have to ask for a number you probably cant.”

With a billowing sigh that pushed out the mint haired man's lips he took to considering his options. Which might seem absurd since he had just met this man, but it was for his brother. His brother who he loved more than anything else on that planet. This Jimin belonged with Hoseok. 

A thousand thoughts crossed his mind in the rumbling quiet until finally one stuck. A moderately crazy one, but one that could work. 

“If you mailed him at my brother's expense you would probably get a little more than he owes,” Yoongi said.

There was a room-wide shrug and whisper. 

“I am a person,” Jimin huffed. 

“You're an object under contract,” Yoongi pointed out.

“The rules do state that any object under contract can be mailed,” Onejunn expanded, “And at a standard parcel rate we would probably get about a third over what you owe to pay out the contract.”

“Especially if you send him the long way,” Yoongi added with a smirk, because who wouldn't want to see the world?

That's how the incredible mint-haired mail man wound up filling out his first and only large parcel contract at the city center mail hub in the Port of JYP. 

“Wait?! You're not taking me?” Jimin asked in a panic when he realized what was going on. 

“He's got places to be,” Mister Jinyoung said. 

The little mail man got a funny look from the commissioner when he asked for a piece of paper and wide tip pen but it was given to him at no extra charge. So he wrote “THIS JIMIN IS FOR YOU HOSEOK” on the paper and shoved it into Jimin's chest.

“Take a picture of us commissioner,” Yoongi smiled.

With the fountain in the background, Vern standing between them and the crew of The Boys Republic trying to stick their fingers in the frame they took the first picture with that brand new camera. Jinyoung was even kind enough to take a picture of Jimin, Yoongi, and the whole crew. For them of course. 

The goodbyes were shockingly touching for pirates. Promises to keep in touch were exchanged with hugs and the mint-haired currier even got some 'glad we got to meet you's'. He wrote to Onejunn about their adventures quite often there after. They landed at the port fairly regularly after the apparently devastating loss of two consecutive crew members to it. As Yoongi understood it they were under an unofficial contract with Jinyoung. 

It turned out this Jimin was the incarnation of sunshine and the embodiment of sweet candy but he also had a very bitter inside where the tortures of leaving home alone to seek out his soulmate lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the delay everyone. I had a novel to finish before I could give my whole heart to this fic that way it deserves. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. (also anyone that hasn't should go check out Boy's Republic. They're amazing and deserve more love than they get). 
> 
> Much love.   
> Until next time (may it be in weeks rather than months)  
> ~RFL


	5. The Journey Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey humans! I'm  
> Really really sorry about the wonky formatting this time around my computer came back from getting the screen repaired with a broken fan so I had to send it back in. I wrote this in Google docs on my phone and am also posting it from my phone. I'm dyslexic and this is torture lol. I sincerely hope that you're enjoying this journey with me and Yoongi and Vern and hope that if you have anything to say you'll leave a comment. Have a fun!

He spent a long time staring at that picture and smiling. Caught up in the sea salt of a memory and a dozen letters written to a ship’s captain he only met once. He could feel the ocean in his hands as he reached for the other contents of that envelope.

It was a wedding invitation.

Hand written by his mother, in the gorgeous cursive she reserved for special occasions. Some people had, no doubt, gotten much fancier embossed invitations with flowers attached and all of the fan faire associated with these kinds of events but his was just a simple card. The attached letter plastered a smile across his face.

Hey Bro.

So Jimin and I have decided to make it official… The wedding thing, not the the relationship thing.

All Yoongi could think was ‘freaking finally’ because good grief it had been years. Marriage wasn't such a big deal; soul mates were usually just assumed to be married right out the gate. But weddings...those were in a completely separate category. Weddings were immense, massive, glorious, full of vaguely obnoxious traditions and loud parties. They were celebrations. Guests came from everywhere. All corners of the world. They took years to coordinate so the mint haired mailman was surprised to find that the note continued with:

The thing is; we don't know when you're coming home, but also, there is no way I'm getting married without you. You're my big brother and I want you to be there.. So try to be home as soon as you get this. We can only hold our guests hostage for so long. Heechul says most people can make it from YG in half a year. I don't know what that means for you.

I kind of want an autumn wedding...just saying.

And the handwriting shifted to Jimin for:

Also, congratulations loser; we sent a copy of this to all of the big hubs and you just had to be at YG didn't you?

-Sunshine and Hobi

P.s. If you can send us an RSVP it would be appreciated.

Since you’re at YG.

You jerk.

“My brother is getting married,” the mint haired mail courier explained to the curious faces on the other side of his letter.

“Hoseok is the middle one right?” Dae inquired.

Yoongi nodded with a smile, “Yup. I need to write a contract for my RSVP.”

The two men looked at each other and wrinkled their noses. The fatal flaw in that p.s. Hobi had written was that Yoongi could get home faster than his letter could. The all too obvious solution was to deliver his own RSVP.

“I'm going to write it and take it,” he explained.

“Ah?” Dae tried to act sure but came off confused.

“If he writes a contract for it the kids and JYP will know he's coming so they can start heading for Heenim’s too,” Ji whispered loudly.

And Yoongi was certainly willing to bet that everyone was gathered at the Port. Jimin had spent three weeks living with the crew of the Got SevInn while he waited for someone brave enough to take his contract. Chansung has been the one to oblige...mostly because Yoongi himself had written the buff courier and asked a personal favor because he didn't want to have to pay Jaebum. The sneaky innkeeper had just been making Jimin work for his stay but that was beside the point.

The crew of the Boys Republic had no doubt brought Jiminie’s family from overseas with them. So basically everyone should be in JYP by then. And ready to head up the river on the MarkSon boat or on caravans to Heechul's.

Then the flaming red dragon asked “that's where that was going right?”

“Yup. The contract notification will get to JYP a week or two ahead of me,” he said, “I'm taking the long way home. But once I get past the port it's easy.”

He was giving the pedestrians a head start.

The honey blonde fished out a pen and a blank single letter contract for Yoongi. Who proceeded to fill out, sign and thumb print it.

“Can you get it out tomorrow on first wave?” The youngest asked.

“Rush order it is,” Jiyong winked.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked absently, reaching for the side of his loose leather pack that had his money in it.

“If you're headed that way anyway, I need a couple of things delivered to Heechul, if you could take them you wouldn't owe me anything,” JiYong offered. It was very likely that he wouldn't have owed them anything anyway. His lifestyle was doubly weird in that people often showed their appreciation for his apparent self sacrifice by not making him pay for things.

Not that he was complaining.

“It'll take them awhile to get there,” Yoongi informed. “That's a four and a half month trek without any detours.”

“How do you make that in four months without a horse?” Daesung balked.

“You of all people should know that it's a trade secret,” the dragon hissed at his lover.

“Follow the river,” Yoongi shrugged, “and I will, as long as you tell me what’s in them. I'm not into shady deals.” Not that he expected anything shady but the point stood.

He slid a lock box out from under the counter and popped it open, apparently the lock was just for decoration. “I have a personal letter,” he offered, setting a particularly well stuffed, incredibly fat pale green envelope down, “An efficiency report for all of the guys that base in the area and some revised route productivity reports. It's nothing fancy, I just don't want it to get lost.”

Yoongi nodded in recognition. It was boring industry stuff but routes and reports were sacred and for commissioners only. It was not the first time he'd carried something like that from one station to the next along his way. Since there was no time off for a big conference in person they did what mail people do, mailed things to each other.

Daesung finally noticed the dirty saddle bags on the counter. “Ah,” he sighed, “I thought we were done for the night.”

“It's only eighty,” Yoongi shrugged

“Only eighty,” the honey blonde snarked, “Like sorting that into several hundred thousand bins won't take me awhile.”

“Dae, it'll take you ten minutes,” Ji laughed, “You know exactly who it's from and where it's going.”

“Do I?” Daesung asked, “Do I really?”

“It's from Block B,” so named because that was their mail block there in the hub, “I'll take the ones for Mino,” Yoongi insisted as the older man began rifling through the contents of the muddy bags, “I'm headed that way anyway. I'll even pay for them.”

“See Dae,” The eldest said, “He even tries to make your life easier. Remember, we like Yoongi.”

Yoongi waved and bowed and said his goodbyes to the loving chatter of a play argument. Part of him wanted that for himself and part of him was too busy thinking about how fun the walk home would be. The honeysuckle would be in bloom down in the forest and the jungle with be full to bursting with all of the sweet smells of life and love and wonder. The mint haired man could taste the memory of sweat and thick dirt on his lips and his toes curled at the thought of soft, sun soaked, rain drenched ground.

Something like magic dripped out of his mouth when he sighed out the buzzing excitement that had gathered in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly his exhaustion had eased away and adventure replaced it...like it always did.

The boards creaked under his weight as he came upon the rickety front steps of The Big Bang Inn. That old place was always a welcome sight.

The door rang out loud and creaking like everything else in the frozen north did and brought him back wide eyed to the first time he’d come upon it. His hair had been grown out to his shoulders and he'd lost nearly ten pounds of weight coming off that high pass. Wholly unprepared was a vast underestimation of his first experience coming to YG. Taehyun: with his shaggy middle part and his sassy eyes had rushed to the door and taken the skinny couriers mail bag.

“Good heavens,” the other man had muttered under his breath in a voice of rich honey and dark ocean, “you look like death.”

“Nah,” Yoongi said back with a breathless smile , “ just a really long walk.”

The innkeeper had scrunched his nose and given a sour look, ushering Yoongi in farther. “Bring the sad little horse dog too,” he'd hissed, “you both need cleaned and fed.” 

Only Taehyung could manage to look put upon when he volunteered to take care of someone. He'd stayed a whole week, resting and sorting out where to go next. 

“No dogs inside,” an unfamiliar and particularly nervous voice called over to him as he wandered in. 

Yoongi narrowed his eyes in this new comers direction as he slid behind the old mahogany counter with Vern padding softly behind him, “You must be new here,” was all the contract-less mailman offered.

“Hey...y-you aren't supposed to be back there,” the nervous one stuttered. His greasy brown hair was parted down the middle but Yoongi forgave him for that because his eyes were kind.

The courier paid no mind. He just grabbed his usual basket of clean clothes from under the counter. He paid several inn keepers in the mail hubs he visited to keep small baskets of clothes and soap and such for him stashed away. This wasn't one of the ones he paid for but it was one of the ones he had. The North had always been kind to him. Ever since the first time he had rolled in muddy and wild from a trip he had in no way been prepared for.

“Twenty Two just had the tub replaced” Mino, Taehyun’s softer, sweeter sidekick and soulmate offered in his dark, rich voice. The tan man with his jet black hair didn't even bother to look up from his sketchbook. “It's got hot water too. You smell like you could use a good bath. Vern too.”

The mint haired mail man signed his name on twenty two and grabbed the key off its peg. “Thanks Mino. He needs a shave too. We're headed back to the coast.”

“Clippers are in the basket,” he droned “TaeHyun changes the laundry basins after first wave still. I'll have him hold one for you.”

“You're a Goddess sent blessing Mino,” Yoongi bantered, “But I'll be leaving before first wave.”

That's when he finally looked up with a smile curling up the corners of his soft eyes, “You, up before first wave?”

“My brother's getting married. It's a long walk home.”

Mino snorted as he stood up and offered a sincere, “Congratulations man. The kid you sent him?”

“Jimin.”

“If you leave your stuff we’ll wash it for you for next time,” the other suggested,

Yoongi started to make his way towards the rooms when his name was called out the tan inn keeper offered “If you're headed for the river I have a letter for my mom…”

“You just said my name for the look on his face didn't you?” Yoongi observed, patting Vern as he leaned against the counter.

Mino looked up again, smiling his big dopey, sheepdog-esque smile, “Pretty much. But I really do have a letter for my mom. I'll trade it for your stay.” That was a vastly generous offer. But Mino was always vasty generous. Yoongi had never paid for a full night's stay there.

“Bobby,” Mino informed, “The one with the dumbstruck look on his face is Bobby. You’re an icon of his.”

“H-hi,” Bobby waved, “so question….I thought that was a myth,” Bobby interjected. “You literally mailed a person?”

“A lot of the stories are made up,” Mino so graciously explained, “But that one is actually true.”

The mint haired mailman shrugged, “He was under contract.”

After a lulling pause where looks were exchanged, “That's SO COOL,” was shouted and promptly shushed by both of the other lobby patrons.

He waved his goodbye in the form of a “Come on Vern, Mino says you smell like a journey.”

Smelling like dirt and tree sap was kind of inherent to the job in his case. He spent a lot of time trudging through wilderness so obviously he acquired its fragrance

It didn't bother Yoongi much anymore but it did tend to upset the more snobbish city dwellers. One of many reasons he didn't spend as much time as he could have in The Port of JYP. 

The bath was glorious as baths tended to be. He was fond of fizzing bath soaps and the hiss of hot water through pipes. Watching the water turn from clear to dark muddy brown was always fun. In fact the mint haired man had made a routine of rinsing off before bathing because he was often three shades darker just from dirt. 

Oh it was funny how things changed; when he was young he'd prided himself on being the cleanest person in his home. Now he prided himself on being...not covered in mud so thick it made his skin look cracked?

Yoongi really had meant to shave Vern all the way down but the look on that dog’s face when he pulled the clippers out was so sad. Almost forlorn. —It was fine. It just meant he stayed up way too late brushing and cleaning and brushing again. Poor ragged creature. The bathroom was completely brown and splattered by the time they were both done and ready to crawl into bed.

He'd determined long ago that he would never be used to beds. Not the fluffy pillowy kind. His favorite bed was a cold glass case and before traveling he'd never slept on a plush bed. He slept on a bed roll on the floor with his brothers when he wasn't on the Heart. So it was the creak in his bones that woke him up long before the ruckus of everyone preparing for first wave would have and he packed quietly in the dark, breathing in snappy winter air as he headed for the desk.

Seunghoon and Jinwoo were the morning shift. One of the strangest pairs that Yoongi had ever come across because they didn't seem to match. The lion boy with his dark fluffy hair and his smiling eyes looked tired as he pouted at Yoongi for not staying longer. He'd even bothered to kick his feet off the counter and come hug Vern. 

The aforementioned sheepdog was not impressed by the hugging but took his slobbering licks and his full body wiggles where he could get them. Seunghoon was on the floor writhing before anyone could warn him that Vermillion was going to pin him and love him until someone gave a release command. Or that Yoongi was not prone to giving that release command readily. 

The other, much smaller, pink haired boy with his narrow jawline bent over the counter and a sparkling twinkle of sappy love oozed from his enormous doe eyes. 

“So how long’s the trip?” The usually quiet, very soft spoken Jinwoo asked. 

“Couple months,” Yoongi shrugged. “I haven't actually gone home since I left or ever gone straight through to Heechul's from here.”

The other man made a noise that could only be described as purring. Recognition sparked across his pretty face, “It’s okay to not go home often,” he said. 

It seemed like a surprising amount of deep thought had gone into that response and it tugged on a heart string that Yoongi didn’t know he had. There was a story there that the mint haired mailman hoped he would hear someday. 

After a good, solid pause the pink haired man asked if the mailman was going to free his companion from the devious clutches of an enthusiastic sheepdog. 

“That’s enough Vermillion,” Yoongi said and his enormous baby dog rose from the floor, shook off loudly and settled. 

Seunghoon was more slobber than human. Vern looked as immensely satisfied as a sheepdog could. 

The mint haired mailman got warm hugs from both of them and well wishes for his brother.

“Don't be a stranger,” Jinwoo's shockingly sweet voice followed the mint haired mailman out the door. Yoongi felt an odd new kinship with the smaller man suddenly and promised to be back soon-ish. 

He took the route he knew the best. Walked with his face to the sky that day. Calloused fingers passed through notches in oddly solid wood and danced over bent weeds. The mint-haired mailman and his fluffy sidekick marched off the road with wanderers confidence; waving goodbye to the lonely caravan that was out early. It would be a lonely road to the coast with just four people and two horses. He hoped they would make it all right and wished them well as he wandered deep into the pines.

Yoongi didn't like roads.

They were safe, for sure, but they were rarely wild. In fact they often lead solidly away from the wild things that Yoongi adored. 

The winding wildlife trails in thick pine forests lead him through familiar groves with fruit that tasted like paradise when they were in bloom. Onward to the places where gnarled bark that felt like family beneath the pads of his calloused fingers. Grooves that bucks had itched into them with angry new horns were finally healing. 

The mailman imagined for himself a life where he could wander like this in the crispness of early air everyday...but then remembered how bad he was at waking up that early and settled for the thought of perpetual late mornings when the bugs are out buzzing around in the grass and the sun blazes down, but not too harshly. Just enough to soak him in gentle warmth.

Air was snappy and cold that morning. Pressing like needles in the shade but Yoongi moved through the dormant underbrush with ease. Determined to get to one of his most precious places. It was high up the mountain, where oxygen was thin and the weeds grew thinner on the rocks. His lungs burned and his pace slowed just a touch as he breached the crest of one last ridge and looked down from his rocky ledge into the valley.

Dead ivy crawled the rocks and foliage. At the middle that same empty oak tree stood still in the breeze. Sat waiting for him like an old friend. There was nothing particularly exemplary about it except that it had managed not to rot out even though it was left a burnt skeleton charred by old fire.

A lightning strike had probably been its demise

“Lay low,” Yoongi told Vermillion. His voice, no matter how soft, shook off the walls of that ravine but the sheepdog paid no mind. He'd immediately made a home in the dirt as his master shrugged off everything that was weighing them both down and slid his hands into familiar rocky hand holds on the side of the ledge.

The way down was steep but smooth. Not many bumps or curves. And the young courier had memorized each groove. Surprisingly this was some of the lighter rock climbing the mint haired mailman did. In part because he didn't have to strap a gigantic dog to him or haul a forty pound mailbag.

If it hadn't been so cold out Yoongi probably would have taken his shoes off too. He loved feeling the rocks and the ground beneath him. But a taste of that ever present pulse of life was not worth his feet. Freedom and adventure being his livelihood; he didn't really want to risk it. He settled for the faded echo of lifeblood running through his memory.

There was a little metal box he'd hidden in that charred oak tree. Full of pictures and some letters he written but felt were too personal to send. Trinkets that were too precious to give away but too burdensome to carry. Glass beads from far off places, rocks, pressed leaves, poems, letters about adventures he wanted to keep for himself. Some extended rants about beauty in this world he loved and lived in. 

Bless his family they didn't seem to understand how much he loved adventuring. Every other piece of mail he got from them started with “Yoongi we wish you would come home,” or “Yoongi we hope you visit soon.” Geeze, he could see the looping curl of his mom's handwriting just thinking about it.

The first time he’s found that ravine and claimed the tree for his own it had been completely by accident. Not the happy kind of accident either; the kind where he had woken up to the distinct feeling of a nearby danger, packed up in a hurry and raced off with Vern. Mountain lions had territory in that area, he'd met a few at an unsafe distance but none quite so unsafe as the dauntingly powerful female he'd encountered there on the cliffside. He could still feel her golden eyes fixed on him if he thought about it too hard.

The mint haired mail man named her Chaelin. Queen of the high road. She'd tracked him for three days, deep into the forest where bigger, scarier things lived. Yoongi wasn't sure why the creature had turned back but he was grateful. And that was when he decided to burry his trinkets instead of carrying them. 

It wasn't much but it gave him peace to feel lighter

Yoongi was there that day to drop off a pocket full of things. Chief among them a little wooden toy that Seunghyun had given him. It was carved in the shape of a jungle bird, the kind that talk back. Its hooked beak could be placed on just about any surface and it would balance perfectly. The scruffy older man had passed it over when they'd run into each other that morning in the street. With a cigarette burning between his teeth the blue haired furniture maker had said, “Here, Mino says you like these.”

It was probably the weirdest, kindest thing that cranky chain smoker had ever done for the mint haired mailman. Not that that took much. Mail people have very little use for furniture so the two of them didn't exactly interact on a regular basis..

With a quirk of a smile that twitched on the corner of his lips he rested the red carved parrot on a bed of unsent letters. He dropped a few silver shards and some green glass he’s found on the high road too before he closed it. 

He was back up the cliff and on his way without much hesitation. Hoping the parrot would be there if ever he came back for it. 

The journey felt...still...and light .Without a contract and even despite its hardships the young mailman had seemingly all of the time in the world to get to The Heart. Meandering along forgotten cart trails and ancient roads that lead to nowhere but old ruins. Whole towns blanketed with weeds. He wondered what they'd been like when they were full of human life. What kind of people had lived there? Especially since each one was different. It was something he thought about often on his walks. And talked to the ground about. 

“You'd tell me the story wouldn't you?” Was something he often directed at Vern. 

Every so often his feet lead him into old barns or crossed his path with dilapidated sign posts. Some written in languages he didn't know; some in letters he did know with words he didn't. Very rarely he stumbled across them in languages he did. 

The mint haired man spent two whole days in the one called “The Gateway.” With the small wooden arch on the edge of the pines. 

That space between two great jungles was like the breadth between a greats bird’s wings. There weren't any trees on the Steppe; it was by definition all grassland and plateaus. Always a welcome change of pace. He could see for miles without end. Yoongi could taste the ocean before him and the forest behind him and even deft hints of the jungle he longed for. 

The days grew longer and the air grew warmer. 

Inevitably he met the pave again at the high road entrance to the Port of JYP. Walked along it looking like a muddy mountain man to the stares and passersby on their clopping horses or in their jingling wagons. He kept his head down, green hair facing the way ahead, but smiled every time he heard an audible gasp or a “is that?” over the cacophony of dissonance. Everything made more noise on the dirt pack so it was moderately impressive when he could hear a person over the rattles of hooves and metal. 

He made it to the city center in time for last wave. Contracts were being called and rowdy humans banged and screamed over each other. 

Poor Yoongi tried to sit at the back on one of the rusty metal chairs only to be called out by the commissioner at the end of the high risk batches. Not for a contracted but for “All hail Yoongi the greenie who has my city running at half capacity. Do you know how hard it is when half the place leaves?” 

Jinyoung must've caught a glimpse through the sea of bodies. Speaking of, the crowd stilled and parted ways with curious glances all around. 

Yoongi walked up to the counter with the snotty sort of arrogance that pug nosed commissioner always expected of him and learned over the counter. “Hey Jinyoung,” he winked, “what am I in for today?” 

The black haired man did that weird shifty eyebrow thing he did and reached under the counter. “Sign for the second leg,” he demanded.

FOR TURN IN AT HEECHUL’S was listed on the top in ink so bold and black it was fuzzy on the edges, trying to spill into the grain of the paper. Yoongi didn't even read it, which was not a habit of his, by the way. Despite the constant and persistent rumors that he was illiterate and never read his contracts.

He just knew what that one said; he'd written it, so he signed at the bottom and took off the glove he was wearing to provide his thumb print.

As he was pulling his finger away Jinyoung cleared his throat the corner of a thinly stuffed envelop came out from under his contract. 

“Do you need some water?” The mint haired man asked.

“JB left this for you,” the older man coughed out and continued to clear his throat.

Ah. Yoongi immediately grabbed it and stuffed it in his pocket roughly. 

As they shook hands in parting the little mail carrier made sure to smear his inky thumb all over JYP’s grimy hands. 

“Get some good rest before you head out,” the elder winked, “May you dream of being as great as me one day.” 

Yoongi just sighed and shook his head. 

This particular way of ending a conversation was a story all on its own. There was no long story short but it involved a very drunken night at Got SevInn and had something to do with a potato carved in the shape of a cat. All of them were reasons Yoongi didn’t frequent The Port as often as he could and was not likely to ever settle down there. Ever. 

EVER.

The envelope had a key to JB and Jinyoung(not that Jinyoung the other one)’s private suite that was attached to the Inn they ran. There was a note that said “you deserve a good night's sleep. See you at Heenim and Hangeng’s.” 

Yoongi didn't know either man well enough to be able to tell their handwriting apart but he assumed it was Jinyoung’s because that dimpled dork was always reading or writing something. Maybe they had known each other and been together so long there wasn't much difference. They'd known they were soulmates since they were toddlers so inevitably the two had spent a whole lot of time with one another. 

Despite the cushy accommodations the mint haired man didn't sleep in a bed, but rather, on the cellar floor with his side against cool stone. Ear pressed to the floor listening for echoes and whispers. Sometimes he felt like the ground was telling him stories rather than just pulsing with a heartbeat. It made echoes and gentle shifts and lulled him to sleep in the cool quiet of a cave


	6. The Journey Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got my computer back after many trials and much tribulation, it was the customer service incarnation of Murphy's Law. Anyway! I sincerely hope you're enjoying the journey so far!

Every day passed by the river's edge was a new beginning. The sun was bright and the air was soaked with life. It was a different kind of vibrant than the adventure up north. Both were full of color and noise but the jungle held a place in Yoongi’s heart. He knew where he could kick off his shoes and let his calloused feet take him through roots and mud. In fact, he was rather guilty of carrying them or tying the laces to his backpack for much of the way from The Port to the lake. The mint haired mail man couldn't remember the last time he’s walked into Jellyfish township with shoes on. 

Being in the jungle wasn't like meeting an old friend the way the oak tree in the valley was. It was like...a lover running to greet him as he opened the gate. Not that he'd ever had a love to do so, but the racing in his heart matched the way it was described in stories. His heart felt like the look in his mother’s eyes every time she saw his dad. Every time he took a breath of muggy, saturated, humid air it pounded with the pulse of the world and called him into the darkness under the canopy.

Sweat was already settled in beads on his back and dripping generously down his face as he set off from his camping site in the late morning. Vermillion sounded like a steam engine boat just rolling through the tide with loud breathy pants. Not the stealthiest of companions, plodding along in loud brush, wandering off to lap at the river every once in awhile. His mint haired master was forever grateful for the lack open space and the limited number of large predators in the jungle because Vern sucked at being quiet in the heat and the humidity. At least in the north, with the wider variety of large pointy toothed things, the massive dog managed to keep his tongue in his mouth more often.

Even though Yoongi’'d sworn to himself he wouldn't take a contract when he'd left three mornings ago, as he’d swung past the jungle entrance hub Minjun had nonchalantly pushed the Jellyfish Mail in his direction. Not even a contract. Just a handful of letters and two gold coins. It made the young courier feel a little bit like an outlaw taking under the the counter mail from both Jiyong and Minjun. In the case of the cinnamon haired sub-commissioner it was probably just gross love letters for Ravi and musical scores for Taekwoon...Leo? Yoongi was never quite sure when to use nicknames and when to use real names.

Distraction ruled at the start of every journey, but most especially the kind where he was in a new place, or an old place after staying on the same routes for too long. Going to Jellyfish took him a little off course. Directed him three days to the west of his fastest route, down the part of the river he loved the most deeply. He counted the birds and listened to the screeching howl of monkeys rustling around in the high branches. Tapped his fingers along unfamiliar logs because everything under the canopy was in a constant state of flux. Especially with the rainy season coming on his tail. 

With so much time to waste he didn't even stop in TS for the night when he went through. Something was pulling him foreward despite his muddy sheepdog walking right up the two steps to Youngguk and Junhong’s front porch and nudging it with the broad top of his fluffy head. It was dark out in the early morning hours but Yoongi just...didn't have it in him to stop. So he pressed through. Vern didn't take much convincing, just the promise of mud and maybe a sloth or two to bark at was enough for him.

Jellyfish came and went only vaguely more slowly than that. He at least had the decency to schedule his arrival for midday and stay for dinner. Yoongi wasn't one to pass up on Hakyeon’s cooking and Vern wasn't one to pass up the scraps. 

There was well that lacked all the ornamentation of the big cities with their fountains at the very center of town. He slept on the ground in that square. The trees were thin and the light of the sky poked through, like glitter dancing on the edges of his dark eyelashes. Yoongi found the sound of rushing water deep in the ground soothed him so he listened and watched and let the world rock him to sleep. The stars whispered to him in the night, tapping out their morse code and the river in the ground rushed and all was right.

A lot of things came and went; like they always did. The stop and go of a long journey, some things melted together in the vastness of it all. 

Some things stood out. 

Like catching sight of the rotted out stump of an old signpost sunk in the ground outside the tree fortress. A common checkpoint for the very few couriers that walked the trails between Heechul’s and TS without passing through Jellyfish. Sprawling houses built up high in the branches. A stranger had told a story once about how the people who built it had died. It sounded more like folklore than anything else though.

Parts of it were upkept by those select few who contracted between Heechul and JYP. Min and Jo Kwon and Chansung all had little places up there that they’d cleared and cleaned. Yoongi knew this because names were carved in walls and unsafe stairs had been replaced. It was a good number of people's special place it seemed. Probably because it was hidden but still easy to find.

That rotten post piqued his already itching curiosity so he pulled his backpack up his shoulders despite the deepness of the night and the ache in his tired soul. 

“What do you think Vern?” He asked, “should we go?”

To be clear it wasn't really a question for the dog because his heart was already starting to pulse in his chest That magnetic pull that had never failed him dragged him off into the forest before Vern could even so much as bark. 

It took them two more days off course; following the signs of old life and ruin. He probably would have missed what he was looking for if he hadn't been so keen on finding it. All of the signs and the old road hunks that he found in the trees had given him clear hints. 

A white marble archway was wrapped in roots and flowers sticking out from the trunk of a heavy tree. Cracked and winding with new life. Yoongi didn't know exactly what it was, except that it was very old and had stairs that descended as far as he could see. Carved on the front old words nearly consumed by foliage read “in love we trust.” 

Ah.

It was a heart. 

Well... not a heart, but a lifeblood stream. The young courier had been told many times by teachers and parents that places like this had once been much more prevalent than they were. Places like his home where people went to hear their soulmate’s name whispered to them. There were only three known Hearts, but the lifeblood near a Heart could carry the same whisper. He must've been directly north if it was an artery that ran close enough to the surface to dig up. Exactly north. Part of Yoongi wondered how far he would have to walk in that direction to just be home but the rest of him knew that he had to go the other way. Or maybe something whispered it to him. He would never be quite sure. 

He wouldn't be Yoongi if the thought of going in had been a question.

So the mint haired mail man stripped his backpack off; and his ratty black sweater and put them against a half toppled pillar covered in moss. There was a small procession of pillars in varying states of disrepair leading to the solid entrance. 

He had the sudden foresight to pull out of his perfectly chipped, banged up and probably worth replacing orange ceramic bowls and pour some water for the dog.

“Stay put buddy,” he offered, “or go get yourself some dinner. Just make sure you come back for me alright?”

All he got were some loud lapping noises in reply and he ran his hand across a solid back covered in coarse gunmetal grey hair. 

Out of respect for the people that came before him and the ones who would, no doubt, come after, he jammed his two gold coins from Jun.K into the slot in the wall just passed the threshold. The dull metallic jingle told him he wasn't the first person in a millennia to me here at least. 

If he'd been wearing his shoes he would have taken them off but instead Yoongi just did his best to scrape the caked on mud off on the first step. 

He braced his hands against cool, slick, stone and breathed in the musk and mold and a thick, heavy undercurrent of sandalwood. Incense burned into the porous walls of the cavern. Any reasonable person probably would have taken a light source but Yoongi had grown up in a place like this and he knew that he wouldn't be long in the dark. Hand to the wall and follow the sound.

The stairs didn't lead nearly as deep as the mailman thought they would. They opened into a large chamber where the rush of prismatic light flew along the ceiling. To his surprise there was no case above the river; just marble on three sides. Like it had been diverted there maybe. 

A less respectful person probably would have dipped a hand in, but he wasn't going to risk his life on some fleeting curiosity so he stood watching. Even sat after a while and just stared as the shimmering movement of shifting light. Silvery liquid sloshed and rushed along the marble and splashed out, spreading along the floor sometimes. Prismatic rainbows cast on the wall shifted in and out. He felt...young again. And not quite so bitter at the quiet in the room. It was cool and calm and it echoed with a surging pulse like home. He cared less and less about his lack of soulmate the more he traveled. There was too much to see. How could he possibly tie himself down when there was so much to do. He wanted to travel with Onejunn and take a contract farther up north, passed Block B to Big Hit or maybe even all the way to Starship. He’d heard rumors about the sky above the treeline and how gorgeous it was. 

“It would be a shame to stop adventuring,” the mint haired mail man scoffed. Suddenly in the silence he found his own voice strange but he kept talking anyway. Like he used to. 

Yoongi started muttering about how it wouldn’t be worth it, giving up his life. He mail courier curled his knees to his chest and leaned against the marble wall and sighed. He was sure not even a soulmate could convince him to settle down. He didn’t want to have a home. Not the kind he returned to. Having the kind that he wrote back to was different. Maybe if the mint haired man did get a name he could just...ignore it and never look. He wouldn’t have to tell anyone he’d heard anything. 

At some point, long after dark, Yoongi wandered back up the stairs and brought Vern and his belongings down to sleep there and eat some leftover lunch. Cooked fish and stale bread. His diet was not the most exciting half way through a long trek but he never went hungry. 

It was the best nights sleep he'd gotten since he left home with cold marble and a dog for a pillow. Which doesn't sound comfortable but sheepdogs are surprisingly good at it. 

They crossed the river on a rainy day when the water was treacherous. Of all the things Yoongi had learned in training he never thought swimming would be his most invaluable skill but surely it was. Or maybe it was his courage. Plenty of the mail people he knew could swim, not many of them dared to. 

The sky greeted him with a certain kind of twinkling vigor as he crossed out of the tree line in the heat of the day. With his feet aching and his heart full he approached town finally. 

Months had gone by since the start. 

YG to JYP to Heechul’s in one long trek. It was a journey for the ages. 

That hub was bustling and loud on the edge of the lake. Shouts echoed off the wall of brush and shattered through trees leaving a piece of each word behind as they went. 

There was an enormous iron shield planted solidly in the ground at the south road’s entranced over in front of a terrifyingly shaky watchtower that the mint haired mailman had be forced to climb at least twice. Maybe refuse or flotsam were better words for both items. The tower and the iron both certainly looked like something the river would drag in or the tide from the lake. 

The metal shard wasn't in any particular shape but it was taller than Chansung, and probably Taecyeon too. Anyway that...thing was beaten with an enormous mallet at the start of first wave and the end of last wave everyday. “to wake up the slackers and back up the snatchers,” Heechul always said. The long haired commissioner called people that swooped in at the end of last wave to outbid contracts snatchers.

Very rarely it was rung to mark special occasions or wedding processions. Yoongi had only seen it used in that way once so he's certainly not expected to have it done for him; but Yoseob the mid day watchman caught sight of the mint haired mail man as he cleared the green brush line. The tower shook as the handsome guard descended. 

Yoongi was perpetually amazed by the grace of the tower keepers and how they managed not to fall. 

“He's here!” The other man screamed, booming loud and clear into the heart of they’re driftwood town, “Yoongi’s back!” 

There was was always fanfare in his returns but not this much. Certainly not the kind that warranted a sort of gong being struck on his behalf. The crumpling sound of metal on metal clamored and clashed with the sounds of town until it overtook them. 

Yoongi and Vern stopped where they stood and waited curiously as the noises all shifted through the air. Vern even managed to rasp out a bark before his excited wiggles took over. 

Heechul came running. Sprinting. That man ran for nothing. An old injury made his left leg stiff but here curious onlookers out of his way.

“Yoongi!” Was screamed repeatedly, uncomfortably close to the young mail man’s ears as he was swept into a hug. 

Not a bone crushing hug thankfully. Just a sudden one. The muddy sheepdog decided he needed to help and jumped up planting his front paws on the commissioner’s gentle shoulders and nearly knocked them all over as the horse puppy shook and slobbered and slapped his tongue around. 

“How was the trip?” “You need a haircut,” “Good heavens you need a shower,” we're all sputtered out in very quick succession. He'd bathed in a stream the day before but his clothes did smell like travel so he didn't argue and his hair was long enough to tuck behind his ears. Which he hated. 

Yoongi maybe had forgotten how to interact with humans a little bit and had to remind himself to greet Heechul as the older man pulled away. That happened sometimes after really long treks and he had stretched his by a good two weeks to give everyone else time to arrive so. 

“Hey Heechul,” came rasping out and Yoongi was legitimately proud of himself. Legitimately. 

“How was the trip?”

“Same as always,” Yoongi replied, “Just a little slower.”


	7. The Lake Hub

The farther into town he got the more astounded he was. There were so many faces. People he did recognize. People he didn’t. It seemed like everything must be at capacity because the shear number of people was unbelievable. The Lake hub wasn’t built to hold this much strain, everything was bursting the seams. 

Yoongi was perhaps looking for specific humans though. Which was difficult given his height. ]

Finally in the crowded square Yoongi caught sight of Youngjae from GOT SevInn, who had apparently shoved his way to the front. The dog breeder was smiling so brightly that the sun had nothing on him and waving at the mailman enthusiastically and screaming for...Vern. Of course. Yoongi wasn’t even sure why he was surprised. No one loved Vern more than Yoongi but Youngjae was a close second. 

“Can I clean him up for you?” Youngjae asked as he bounced in for a hug. 

Yoongi sighed relaxing into a much softer embrace than the one Heechul had offered, “That would be great if you really want to. He’s kind of gross from the trip.” 

The black haired man didn’t even respond to that just pulled away and nodded vigorously. So Yoongi pulled Vern’s saddle bag off and threw it over his right shoulder. Then leaned down, letting his shoes scrape in the dirt, for a big slobbery wet sheepdog lick. 

“Go with your Uncle,” The mint haired mailman told his companion, pressing their foreheads together.. “Be a good boy.”

He felt kind of naked as he watched them go. Vern only looked back over his fluffy butt twice as the surrounding people filled the void and swallowed the blue and white creature in their masses. Being without his dog was like being without part of himself. They slept together, talked to each other, hunted, carried mail, adventures, faced peril. They even bathed together most of the time. That dog was his life even more so than mail was. He tried to ignore the pulling in his heart and wander farther into the square with Heenim when the gentle commissioner gave a sympathetic tug on his favorite ex-trainee’s wrist but people kept stopping him but...hitting him in the shoulder? 

Yoongi was fairly certain that his shoulder was just one giant bruise after the beating it took from strangers greeting him as he walked through town. His passing into myth whilst still alive and very much young had facilitated some really weird superstitions about him. The latest one was apparently touching his left shoulder, the one he’d broken when as a teenager, could give a person good luck. 

Entirely untrue. 

Literal most untrue thing he’d heard floating around in the rumor mill and that's saying something. This was the first time he’d heard about about it and he sincerely hoped it was the last because he needed his body strong. 

Heechul intervened.

The sassy commissioner ducked them both into his own house under the guise of resting and washing up for the long day that tomorrow was to be. 

On the list of things that never changed...that house was first and foremost. It was built solid, made of brick with hardwood flooring. Unlike most of the surrounding structures it's windows were glass and shuttered with beautifully painted slats. There were no cracked wooden boards for walls that let the air pass through. The door came open with ease and Yoongi stepped into the cool living room filled with plush furniture. There was a white rug in the middle of the floor that felt like the softest dog to ever live. The mint haired mailman remember what it felt like laying on his stomach studying out of handbooks and learning contract law. 

There was no Hangeng sitting on the high backed couch reading a book. That was odd. 

“Where’s your other half?” Yoongi asked.

“He headed for The Heart to get all of the vendors organized for your grand entrance tomorrow,” Heechul offered. “We figured since you were being sneaky we would do the same.”

“They’re going to get everything set up tonight so we can get this two town party started already,” the older man explained, patting his younger friend’s back gingerly. “Come on you look hungry. You shower while I cook.” 

Nearly starved actually. Not close to death, but ravenous. Yoongi hadn't had a decent meal in days. The trek between lakes was always a game of scavenging for scraps. It was over hunted by the sheer number of people that used it. He'd been living on roasted frog and whatever birds Vern managed to catch without ripping them open before they got to him. 

 

Washing up was faster than he anticipated. The showering portion anyway. 

He took a good long look and almost didn’t recognize himself in the mirror when he came out. His skin had gotten darker and his weight loss was apparent in his face, the hollowness of his cheeks and the sudden sharpness of his jawline almost alarmed him. But then again, thus had been his life for the last...what? Four? Four and a half years? On his abdomen there were muscles defined and visible when they hadn’t been before. He felt oddly small despite it. 

Clippers and a pair of scissors were sitting in a basket beside a very clean smelling, neatly folded, t-shirt and denim pants. 

The mint haired mail man tried to make quick work of shaving his sides and trimming the fluffy length of his hair but he was quite picky about it. Yoongi had gotten good at cutting his own hair actually; since he was rarely in town when the barbers open. He often had to hack away at it in the jungle to keep himself cool. It was easier with a mirror and sharp tools rather than a rusty old blade and just his finger to feel out the length. 

He managed to remember to grab Jiyong’s reports and his own RSVP on his way to the kitchen after he’d finished brushing his teeth and dressed himself. There was a towel draped around his shoulders so the drips from his freshly cut hair wouldn’t land on his dark blue shirt. 

The house smelled like beef and garlic but it was light rather than being stomach knottingley heavy. Which was a blessing and a half because going straight for real food after what he’d been living on was a terrible idea. It would make him so sick so quickly. 

“For you,” he offered, slapping the paper down on a stone countertop.

Heechul sorted through it idly as commissioners do and handed the RSVP back. “You’ll be delivering this yourself sir.”

“I’ve never had a violation so make sure you write it off,” Yoongi replied. 

“Sir yes sir,” the pink haired man laughed. 

And then Heechul dropped a bowl down on the solid counter so hard that the almost gelatinous contents tried to slosh but ended up wiggling instead. “Beef stew for lunch. I don’t think I have to tell you not to eat too much but I’m going to tell you anyway,” The older main said.

When lunch, dinner, and second dinner had all been eaten several hours apart Yoongi found himself nodding off at the old pine table in the kitchen trying to read some fan mail that Heechul had brought in to occupy his suddenly empty time. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, it was that he was exhausted. He’d been running on empty for days so he retired to his shed in the backyard. They kept a cot in it for him because he didn’t like sleeping in climate controlled houses or Inns if he didn’t need to. Yoongi liked to feel the air, sticky or hot, or cold, however it was. Chilled from the breeze of early autumn but thick with mist off the lake. 

He slept like a king that night with a full belly, snuggled up next to the fluffiest version of his dog he had ever seen. Youngjae had sheepishly explained that the Vern’s hair was so long that he felt bad cutting it so he spent four hours dematting and deep conditioning it. Four hours. That man was dedicated to his craft and Vern looked more like a marshmellow than a dog

First wave rang out loud in the air and in Yoongi’s heart as he rolled out of bed late, like always. Almost slammed his perfect hair into a rusty shovel. It was tradition at that point to wake up to the gong not the ruckus made by human bodies or the smell of fresh baked bread. It was rare that he ever even bothered to get out of bed at that hour. No one forced him to on the road and he never took anything from first wave when he was in town but that day was different. 

He had a route to catch.

So he stumbled through packing his scant belongings and saddling his incredible fluff dog with bags. Roughly Eighty percent of the poof just...flattened. 

The mint haired mail man sprinted to the square without a moment to spare and took a position at the back of the pack as route were called out. Heechul got to route eighteen in what seemed like record time and announced that it was up for grabs. The pink haired man gave that route to no one. He’d been running it for sixteen years. Every day for sixteen years. But there it was being held up in the air on an autumn morning. 

“Last contract of the day!” Heechul shouted loud and clear in the breeze, “No Risks or second waves today ladies and gents.”

The crowd parted ways, seemingly like it had in the past, but it was eerily different. The usual noise of the square was nowhere to be found. The chatter and the gasping that followed him was shockingly absent. A host of smiling faces peered at him as he walked forward and raised his hand high into the air.

“I'll take it,” Yoongi called.

“Any objections or better offers?” Heechul asked.

There was a resonant “pffft,” that was explained by a gracious Hangeng who had returned from his trip apparently, “Sweetheart not even you could get there faster than Yoongi.”

“Route eighteen to The Heart,” the commissioner called, “To the finest mailman I ever trained. Come and get your contract Yoongi! You're going home!”  
Never in Yoongi’s somewhat short career had he been so excited to stick his finger in cold wet ink and roll it across rough, grainy paper. The mint haired courier felt like maybe he should have savored the moment but it was gone as quickly as it began and before he knew it the majority of the town was loading up and preparing for travel...or battle. They kind of seemed like they were preparing for war the way they geared up for the walk. It wasn’t that far and it wasn’t that cold.

The caravan followed behind him. Everyone loaded up. The accompanying mail people grabbed bags and packed up the mail carriage; this route was always full and far too much for Yoongi to take on his own without a horse and wagon.

He walked out ahead with his noisy dog. Let the gravel of a well worn road crunch beneath his feet. The walk to town probably would have been the longest short journey of his life filled with a loud sky as the sun peaked over the horizon. But the men behind him started laughing and elbowing each other and playfully insinuating that the mint haired mailman didn’t live up to his hype because he was only going to arrive ten seconds before the rest of them.

So naturally he dove off the road into the forest even though he had never delivered anything there and didn’t know any short cuts. All he knew was that the road wound to the west instead being a straight shot and if he kept his feet on on the ground he could follow the pulse of The Heart through to the gate. Vern followed closely like he did in new places and the warmth of the trees smelled like sticky sap and jasmine. There was an aspen grove that Yoongi swore he’d come back to. He ran his fingertips against the chalky white and reveled in the snap of twigs beneath him. No one had come this way in a long time, if ever. 

The forest thinned into a grassy meadow and his home was built there, on top of a hill. That walk cut twenty minutes off his time. So as he came to stand before the gate he slid his backpack off his shoulders ,took of his shoes and sat in the dirt on the road. Just like he did in all of his new places. Sighing out the mist of quiet morning he leaned against the brick that surrounded The Heart and looked to the clear sky. The sun had risen but warmth hadn’t radiated to the surface just yet. He could have run the bell or opened the gate on his own but instead he just sat there, picking leaves and twigs from his hair and running his fingers over short cropped grass. Enjoying all that life had to offer on a clear morning in autumn.

The caravan noise came rattling and riotous to his peaceful break. Chansung with toddler Sanduel up on his shoulders looked genuinely surprised to spot the mint haired man sitting in peace. As he was the first to crest the hill the black haired man was the first to call out, “Yoongi beat us here.” Apparently this had turned into a little bit of a mail person race. 

“Really, what did you expect?” was Amber’s reply. The quirky smile on her face as she raced up and offered Yoongi a hand up made his heart swell. 

A soft, feminine hand was raised in the crowed “How did you do that? One of the little baby trainees asked. 

“Yah,” Amber hushed, “Haebin you can’t just ask for trade secrets like that.”

“Haebin?” her name rang in his memory and he offered, “I’m glad you made in time for training after all.”The young honey blonde woman with with her long hair twisted in a braid clearly had not expected him to remember that one time they met at Jellyfish because her blush was apparent.

“The road curves to the left around a dried up old creek,” Yoongi shrugged, “I cut through.” It wasn’t really that impressive but it was a lot dangerous. He very easily could have gotten lost or turned around but he never did. He trusted his feet and the hum of life blood beneath them. 

At least eight people asked him if he was going to put his shoes on in the time it took for the wagons to catch up and then they were on their way again.

The slow crawl through town, dropping mail off in bins and buckets and boxes was oddly relaxing. Gardens he knew were changing colors with the season and old flagstones that his feet remembered seemed strangely smooth. 

Town was dressed to the nines too. Wreaths and bright green garland looped the fences. White flowers were everywhere. The great archway at the second gate had been decorated with every flower that grew in the area and the town square had bright jewel toned chairs lining it. There were tents put up and old stages had been rebuilt. It looked more like a festival than a wedding and maybe it was. 

He flew under the radar strangely well for a small green haired legend. The townspeople either didn’t notice him or just said hello and smiled as they waved him on. Some of them joined the back of the caravan, and by the time they reached the end of his street, his house, the last house on the route it was beginning to look like a proper wedding march with people dressed bright gleaming color. Yoongi made sure that all of the noise died and the cart stopped a little short. He wanted to be as much a surprise as he could manage to be.

It was Jungkook who had taken his mail collecting duties. Yoongi recognized his hunched form instantly. Bent over the same old four foot tall white picket fence that he had often leaned over on mail days. Just the crown of head head was visible, that mop of muddy brown hair was a sight for sore eyes. 

The mint haired mail man grabbed his last two bags from the back of the wagon and gave the string of one to his massive furball companion. As he slid his feet up a familiar walkway he sighed through a fog of memories that assaulted him. Childhood, running through the garden, sword fights with branches off the old oak tree. Everything seemed so different. 

Vern came right along side him making a racket as he swayed. Sheepdog noise eased the sudden pit in the mail couriers heart. He never longed for home but he often longed for his family and there was his precious younger brother standing there looking tired and completely unaware of him. 

Instead of announcing himself, or clearing his throat or making any indication that he was not Heechul he just settled a calloused hand in pillowy soft hair and dropped his mail bag on the opposite side of the fence. 

“Yah,” Jungkook opened his mouth with the clear intention to complain but then... then he looked up. 

Yoongi’s youngest brother shot up straight and and opened his mouth again but ended up biting his lip when his broad shoulders squished up. Tears welled in his warm eyes and he tried to scream for their mother but his voice broke and Yoongi’s heart broke with it. They crashed into each other over the fence.

Jungkook who had outgrown his older brothers when he was a child sobbed hard into the mint haired mans shoulder. That soft voice choked out “big brother” a thousand times. Awkwardly long fingers grabbed at every spare scrap of clothing they could find. They stood there like that for at least ten minutes with the horses shifting in the background. 

With swollen red eyes and snot dripping out his nose Kookie finally found his voice again he sniffled and smiled and said, “Yoongi, go get in the wagon. Get Hee up here.”

Ah, there was the Kookie he knew and loved. 

He motioned for the limping commissioner and traded places. 

He didn’t hear much of what went on. It took everything in him not to jump out right when he heard his mom’s voice and his dad’s strong footsteps coming down the old garden path. After Yoongi got behind the cart and put Vern in a very stern down stay. Just the bits that Jongkook and Heechul made sure he could hear from his short distance. 

“Ah no,” Jungkook said, “No, he was just telling me a story and I got a little emotional is all.”

“I just have some extra mail for you today and Kookie didn’t think he could carry it all,” Heechul explained smoothly, “I was telling him about a letter I got while we waited.”

“What kind of mail is it?” Jihyo asked, “More fan mail for The Heart?”

Yoongi took that as his most perfect opportunity and spun out of the shadow of the wagon to offer, “An RSVP to a wedding.”

The look on her face was worth it. It was stuck between shock, anger and excitement. All of their faces were varied on the spectrum of shock and love in some way. 

His mother swore at him and called him a brat as she shoved through the gate and ran to him. 

There was so much crying...and hugging. More hugging than he could stand.   
He and Jimin were consoling a sobbing Hoseok for at least ten minutes before he managed to say “You need to stop or you’re going to have a swollen face for your wedding.”

“My what?” Hobi choked out as he pulled away.

“Your wedding,” the mint haired mail courier repeated. 

Wherein Heechul had to explain his part in this whole mess. They had literally dressed the whole town overnight. Literally. The pink haired commissioner was very serious about the wedding happening that day before the flowers wilted. 

Hani ran out late to the party like always and her greeting was probably the most spectacularly her it could have been “Is that Vern?” she asked in this almost mortified tone that made him laugh. 

“Yeah, that’s Vermillion.”

“He’s enormous,” she bawlked.

“Hey big dog,” his dad said, kneeling in front of the four foot tall beast of a dog. The slobbery licks that ensued nearly knocked the very well build Jongkook right off his knees. 

“He’s way bigger than the pictures,” Hoseok commented. 

“I told you,” Jimin hissed and nudged the other in the side.


	8. The Soul

The ceremony was set to start in the late morning, before the heat of the day but with enough time for everyone who wasn’t already dressed to get dressed. Mainly the grooms and their families since they were the only ones not in on it. And Yoongi, because he had no formal wear on the road with him. 

He would be hard pressed to carry around the traditional, entirely too intricate garb that his people wore to such occasions. Alternatively it didn't particularly make sense to carry around a dress shirt, or slacks, or a well tailored jacket. They would get dirty, crinkled and worn in his bag. And fancy shoes just didn't even make sense to him at all anymore. They were always tight and uncomfortable. But the mint haired mail man would wear them, for his brother. 

None of Yoongi's old clothes fit right. The mail courier hadn't realized just how much his body had changed until he was trying to put on a pair of six year old slacks that were tight on this thighs and loose on his waist. He wound up stumbling quite hilariously into the groom's room. Which had been built, he was told, after Jimin’s arrival. It was on the main floor behind the kitchen. Built solid and much less rickety than the rest of his home.. The orange haired ball of sunshine was a fairly skilled carpenter it seemed.

Vern barked behind him as he crashed through the door laughing with pants halfway up his thighs. A resounding thud followed his super graceful collision with the floor. He managed to spin and land flat on his back. The dog wiggled into the room to a shouted “don't you dare” and huffed as he flopped down without his desired sloppy kisses. 

Calm air displaced suddenly and all faces turned to him...well to the door and they to him. Not just his parents and Hobi but also Jimin and his parents, whom he recognized from the earlier reunion. His mother, Gukju was a larger woman with a soft round face and an infectious laugh. She had pulled Yoongi into a bear hug while his father Jaesuk had stood back at the gate with a radiant smile in his eyes behind thin glasses. Jimin had whispered to the mint haired man much later that the black haired Jaesuk didn't understand why they'd had to wait for the mint haired mailman's arrival but was happy anyway. 

There question marks all over everyone's faces

Hoseok was half dressed with his dark blue and emerald green robe; mom and was behind him tying things where they belonged, lacing ribbon through the loops on his back Yoongi assumed. Dad was on the bed...they had a real bed not just a floor roll; huh. 

Jimin was fully dressed and smudging eyeliner into his waterline with the help of the body length mirror that was hooked to a closet door. The curve of his shoulders was altered by a sharp suit coat. It had tails they pointed around the knees of his grey trousers. Clearly he came from a different culture. 

Yoongi hadn't thought much about that. 

Not that he didn't think about other cultures. He'd met people from all over the place, but he didn't think much about what the implications of intercultural soulmate-ship meant. It wasn't really much of a concern for him.

“Turns out I'm not a skinny kid anymore,” was all that the mint haired man could think to say. “I figured Jimin and I were about the same size and was wondering if I could borrow something.”

The aforementioned sunbeam glistened with a bright smile, “For sure man.” 

“What you don't want to wear one of these? Jungkook is,” Hobi teased.

“I'm an adult and you can't make me,” the eldest brother retorted, sticking his tongue out.

Jimin’s father scoffed out a mostly joking, “Every young man should have a suit of his own. How dare you not.”

“I don't think you understand what I do for a living if you think that a suit would do me any good,” was the mailman’s laughed reply as the lanky beanpole offered him a hand.

The mint haired mailman thanked his savior with a “Thank you sir” and was immediately assured that “Jaesuk is fine.”

“Hey Suga you can tie up this nightmare right?” Hoseok asked. 

“Yeah?” Yoongi snorted; he'd been tying up traditional celebration garbs for years. The only difference between it at a wedding and it at a festival was that the lacing on the back was down instead of up so the bells that hung from them were in reverse and the big shoulder bow went went on the left. 

“Good,” Hobi sighed, “then we can all get ready in here and our overbearing parents can go get dressed elsewhere.” 

“Thank Lady in the sky,” Jihyo puffed out in agreement, “I'm terrible at tying fancy knots.” The older woman dropped her ribbon without even a second thought and yanked her husband off the four post bed and out the door. 

“Are you sure you'll be okay Jiminie?” Gukjoo asked in a super obnoxious sing song tone at the door. 

Sarcasm. He liked this woman. 

The orange haired man promptly rolled his eyes

Also that wasn't a lie his mother had told. She'd been paying her kids to tie up ceremonial knots for years. She always put the bells in the wrong order and forgot how many loops went through the top ring. 

Once the parents had left Hobi deflated into the chair his mother had been using for...something… Yoongi wasn't sure what.

“I'm only wearing this because mom asked me to,” the younger confessed.

“Of that I have no doubt,” the mint haired older brother snorted. 

They talked while Yoongi undid and redid all of the knots and bows and ribbons that were across his younger brother’s back and chest. Jimin and Hoseok took turns asking him about his journeys. Vern helped him tell stories by snoring on the floor. 

There was a lot of laugher. 

Jimin mostly sat around and watched after he'd found Yoongi an outfit. Long sleeved white button up with a dark blue blue blazer that fit him better than Jimin and some light grey slacks. He came out of the closet to make sure The mint haired man didn't need shoes. 

“Nope, sure don't,” Yoongi smiled. He tugged the last silk ribbon through its metal ring for the final time and tied off the last golden bell.

“There you go.” The mail courier said, smacking his younger brother on the shoulder, “good luck getting it off later.” 

Hobi snorted. 

“Why are there so many bells?” Jimin asked. 

And then he busted out laughing. 

Sunshine incarnate rolled with it the way the sky rolls with clouds on a rainy day. Every time it seemed to slow it came back twice as riotous. The orange haired man tried hard to apologize between gasps but ultimately gave up and ended up on the floor with Vern.

“Be careful, he expresses concern with kisses and pinning,” Yoongi warned as he yanked his too small pants all the way down and started to change. 

After a solid lull in the conversation Hoseok picked up with, “I’m surprised you haven't gone to The Heart,” as his older brother was buttoning his borrowed shirt up. 

The older man snorted and felt his soul drop to his feet where the world hummed beneath bear wood, “I'll get there.”

“I thought you'd be anxious to try again,” the younger offered, “it's been what? Four years?”

“About that,” Yoongi confirmed.

“Don't you want an answer?” Hoseok asked.

“I don't think I need an answer anymore Hobi. I've got exploring to do.”

“But YoooooooOOOOOOoooongi, what if you get one? Soulmates are the best,” the younger man whined. 

“It's different for mail people Hoseok,” the mint haired man signed, “Chansung hardly ever gets to see his family.”

“But he makes it happen.”

“I don't have a home base,” Yoongi argued. 

“No one is stopping you,” Hoseok countered. 

“No one is forcing me to either.”

“Sounds like you're in love with adventuring,” the floor bound Jimin sighed out romantically as he rolled onto his back. 

Maybe it was something like that. The mint haired mailman loved the grass between his toes and the wind in his hair. That was kind of like being in love with adventure he guessed. 

The ceremony was beautiful. And full of love. The kissing went on for longer than anyone was comfortable with. Jungkook and Namjoon spent the entire time making weird faces from the first row trying to get the wedding party to crack up. 

There were a lot of tears and hugs and mushy sappy romance that secretly made Yoongi’s heart melt despite his outwardly sour expression. 

And then came the party. 

Oh was it ever a party. The summation of three whole towns were there, The Lake, the kids that equated to half of JYP, the Pirates and everyone they had brought from overseas, plus the WHOLE of The Heart. Everyone turned up. The procession to the reception took nearly an hour even though it was only a few blocks because the sheer number of people greeting the newlyweds. It was astonishing. 

Onejunn was the first person of note to find him. Which was a blessing primarily because the mint haired mailman was getting really quickly exhausted by all of the ‘fans’ of his that came up to nervously say hello as they skittered by to find their places in the...soulmate parade? That was really the only word he had for it. Wedding ceremonies ended with a procession wherein everyone lined up next to their soulmate and walked in a line to the reception, greeting the newlyweds as they arrived. 

He loved the people who cared about him and his stories, and even just the ledgend of him for sure but their anxiety made his stomach roll. So a familiar voice calling out for him was like the clouds clapping over the sun on a burning hot day on the steppe. Welcome relief. 

The deep, pronounced dimples in the pirate captains cheeks made his smile look wider than it was as he slung a well muscled arm around Yoongi’s small shoulders. “Hey there!” the brunette chirped. “I got your last letter last week when we hit JYP. You’ll have to take me to YG someday, it sounds like a neat place to visit.”

The abruptness of the conversation was a little confusing until the mint haired man followed his warm companion’s gaze and noticed sour looks and glares from all of the young ladies and men that had been waiting to walk up to him. 

“Right, because Pirates are so prone to traveling on land,” Yoongi snorted. 

“You do it all of the time,” the other replied. 

“I’m not a pirate,” the mint haired mailman informed. 

“You totally are,” Onejunn snorted, “You’re a land pirate Yoongi. Accept it, feel it, live it.” The other man drew his face in closer, almost uncomfortably so, and laughed. 

“Shouldn’t you be with Sunwoo?” Yoongi asked after a moment, twisting his neck to look for the tall doe eyed other half or OneSun (their name, not his).

“Nah, this is what we do at weddings,” Onejunn shrugged, “Find the uncomfortable singletons and walk with them so they don’t get accosted.”

“You’re a terrible pirate,” The little mail courier puffed, 

Onejunn scoffed, “How dare you. We’re the best kind of pirate.”

“Oh really?” Yoongi’s question was punctuated but a sheepdog sneeze that made Namjoon jump and nearly trip in front of him. 

“We’re pirates because we work outside the laws of the land,” the other explained, “Not because we’re bad or evil. Without men like us this world wouldn’t run.”

That was true enough but the mint haired man was still not convinced that the crew of the Boy’s Republic actually qualified as pirates of any sort. The only evidence of that was the taking of letters and parcels without a legal obligation or contract but that really just made them mail bandits. 

As they approached the staged pavilion where the grooms stood waiting under a bright yellow archway dressed in wild daisies and goldenrod Onejunn and he linked arms. They watched orange hair shift as they took the first step up together. Jimin leaned to the side presumably to explain to Hoseok why his eldest brother was walking with a stranger that was clearly not the mint haired man’s soulmate or his husband since he had neither. 

“Onejunn!” Jimin smiled. He reached out for a hand but got a hug instead. 

“We’re glad you made it here kid.” 

“Me too,” Jimin sighed, “And thanks for bringing my family.”

“No problem.”

Yoongi hugged moved around them and threw his arms around Hobi’s shoulders. The young mailman wasn’t sure why but he felt the need to say just one thing, “I’m proud of you little brother. You’re a great successor to mom and dad,” slipped out of his mouth and a soft shake came from his strong middle brother. 

“I was trying not to cry you know?” was the raven haired man’s shaken reply. “I made it through mom and dad and Kookie and you just had to ruin it.”

“You’re not that far from the end of the line,” Yoongi winked as he pulled away and then he just walked off the stage and into the second town square. 

Onejunn hopped down behind him, grasped his wrist and yanked him off to the side. They stood there against an old brick wall, quiet for a moment watching the crowd mill around. Cheerful voices and jovial greetings filled the air. 

“Gonna go to The Heart?” Onejunn asked. 

When Yoongi didn’t respond the captain smiled and asked the most absurd question Yoongi had heard all day, “Can I kiss you on the cheek so when people ask me if I know you I can tell them I’ve kissed a legend?” 

Yoongi weighed his options lightly and figured there was no harm in this and it would keep some of the onlookers away plus it had the added benefit of keeping talk about The Heart away . “Go for it.” 

The mint haired mailman didn’t want to admit it, but his feet were pulling in that direction constantly. Every part of him wanted to go lay on that cold glass case and just stay there for hours. As Onejunn’s hair tickled his cheeks he let the warm daydreams of a distant lover seed themselves back into his heart. Wildflowers still grew in his soul no matter how far from that cavern he wandered. 

“Give Sunwoo a hug for me,” Yoongi laughed as he wiped the spit off his cheek. 

And then suddenly something very tight pulled around Yoongi’s narrow waist from the side and his feet were no longer on the ground. The tiny mail man gasped and tried not to wiggle too much as he was lifted and set back down. 

“Sunwoo will give you a hug for himself,” Sunwoo informed. The much taller black haired man walked around and stood with his elbow on Onejunn’s shoulder. 

He gave a flirty wink and said, “If you ever get sick of land and find yourself in need of companionship we’re always up for a third right Junnie?”

The brunnette captain rolled his eyes and snorted out, “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Yoongi managed to hold himself together long enough to deadpan, “Tell Suwoong to give you better pick up line ideas next time.”

“Don’t get too drunk,” was Onejunn’s farewell. 

It was good advice. There was a lot of alcohol. And dancing. Which were two things Yoongi did not partake of or...in for obvious reasons. Those obvious reasons being that alcohol lead to sobbing and dancing. 

He made an exception for the dancing when Mark, bless him, deep voiced and somehow shy walked up with his unbearably soft hand outstretched and asked quietly for a dance. Then Jackson cut in and well he just kind ended up getting passed around for a couple of hours until he emerged exhausted and stumbled into a wall. 

There was dinner. There was more drinking. The sun set. Then there was cake, and more drinking. And Yoongi sat and watched with Vern, tracking the smiling faces he knew and they laughed and radiated joy. He was so involved in his people watching that he didn’t even notice the soft gentle curves of the silver haired woman that came to stand beside him.

“Boa,” the white haired woman introduced herself offering a hand out. 

“Yoongi,” he replied shaking the offered hand. 

“Oh I know,” she said, “You’re Hoseoks’s older brother. The mailman. We all stopped our lives and waited around here for you for three weeks.”

“I could have taken longer,” the mint haired man retorted with an edge of sarcasm.

She scoffed and smiled, “Fair enough.”

“How do you know Jimin...or Hoseok,” the latter part was added because he wasn’t sure who knew who anymore. He’d been gone for a long long time by town standards. People that left The Heart for more than a few weeks weren’t likely to come back. He was a living miracle. 

“Jimin is my baby cousin.”

“Ah.” 

The white haired woman spun around to look back out at the opulent dance floor where finely dressed people were spinning around and offered out the most peculiar thing that Yoongi had heard all day “I hate these things too you know?,” Boa offered idly, “They make me so jealous since the soulmate thing hasn’t happened for me yet either.” 

After a long pause he added, “Don’t get me wrong, my life is great. It’s just always missing something you know?”

Yoongi found himself awkwardly agreeing despite the fact that he didn’t. His life was perfect just the way it was. He had a sheepdog and job security, endless places to travel, friends all over the world. Nothing about his life needed to change. The option to shower more often would be nice but he didn’t mind being covered in dirt either. 

That was how that conversation ended. Yoongi thought to correct himself but he didn’t really want the fight or to have to explain so he just...let it be. 

Hours later, as things wound down and Yoongi was left to think about the odd lack of emptiness in his own heart was. In his years since leaving home something peculiar; that he couldn't quite place, had completely filled the void. 

So he turned in as everyone else began to, doubting the scant stragglers would notice his absence in the deep night hours. Most of them were appropriately drunk for the occasion anyway. 

Yoongi’s cramped, stiff dress shoes were the first thing to go. And he pulled his borrowed jacket off shortly thereafter. Unbuttoned the tight collar and sleeve cuffs and made short work of rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he strolled down the street. The mint haired mailman ran his left hand along white fences and iron gates while kept the other firmly planted on his dapper Sheepdog’s broadhead. 

He wasn’t exactly sure how he made it to The Heart, but, really, how long was he going to stay away? The pull of the cool underground and the glass against his back was too much to bare. He wanted a night there more than he’d wanted anything. Seeing his family could wait. They would know where to find him, so he pried the corner of the door open and slipped through just like he used to and held the door open for his partner in mailrunning. 

Without any kind of hesitation the mint haired man crawled up onto the old case and motioned for Vern to come with. He left his shoes and his jacket in the middle of the floor and stretched out like a lazy cat in the sun. Not a sound was uttered and relief sighed through his heart. Nothing had changed. Still no name.

“What do you think Vern?” Yoongi asked, ruffling the mop of hair on his shaggy dog's head, “It's pretty cool right?” The sheepdog just panted, like he always did, though, slightly less so in the air conditioned underground. His brick wall of a dog stretched against the glass and grunted. “Your dad used to sleep here almost every night.”

They both lay curled against the cool glass for hours. Yoongi told his big fluffy sheepdog a thousand stories from his youth. He almost went into the story of Jimin because he loved telling it so much but stopped short with “You were there when that happened weren't you buddy?” And when the small courier turn over Vern was so asleep he watched the gunmetal grey fluff of the pup's chest rise and fall a few times just to make sure he was breathing.

He woke up to a drop in his chest. A loud cracking noise that scared the dreams right out of him as he reeled back, tripping over the rail and landing squarely on his butt with a thud. Vern barked and retreated with him. Yoongi sat transfixed, blinking the sleep from his rested bones as he watched color swell up in the glass case. Lines like spider webs in the forest spilled across the thick case that protected the Heart of his world.

The air filled with lavender, sand and sharp metal. Invisible wildflowers bloomed along the wall and something made Yoongi feel...light? The room shifted. Everything shifted. That thing that kept him grounded. The thing that hooked him to the planet and kept him going in the right direction. That inescapable feeling of never being alone and always knowing where it was...it shifted. He couldn't explain it. It seemed crazy but suddenly that feeling was in his chest instead of his bare feet. Suddenly he was light and the ground wasn't his anchor but he didn't float away he just stared at the Heart as lifeblood leaked out in little drops, covering the smaller cracks.

Peace like he'd never in all his life had washed over him in waves even though he should have been panicking. Intellectually he knew that he should be panicking and screaming for his parents but when he opened his mouth his jaw just hung there. No sound came out. Nothing.

Until a shuffle of dust shattered his awe and he sprang to his feet twisting to face away from the Heart.

There was a stranger in the room; a tall stranger that somehow made the room smell like hot sun on the salt ocean.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you,” the stranger offered. His voice was rich like thick silt. Deep as the jungle and clinging to the walls of the cavern like a ghost. Haunting. Hallow. Yoongi had never had so many words for just one sound.

A strange breathe of fresh air inhaled through the cave.

“How did you get in here?” Yoongi asked, “We're not open yet.”

The man didn't answer but reached his hand out as he stepped forward into the light. This man who had dark tree bark hair and streaks of green like leaves in his bangs to go with it looked at Yoongi then. And the mailman met was met with pools of deep ocean water, not because they were blue but because they were endless. Vast and filled with strange promises. “My heart was just so full.”

Suddenly the hints of bitter distrust came back despite the eerie light feeling in his chest. “Go ahead,” Yoongi sighed running a hand through his sleep knotted hair, “I don't know how you got in here but you might as well stick your ear to the Heart,” part of him hoped for another waking swell to crack the glass and the world to swallow this intruder whole, “That's what you're here for right?”

“I already know my answer,” the man offered softly smiling like graceful winter.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and tracked the fine line of this odd man's jawline. Traced his twiggy features with a questioning gaze. It was early in the season but this stranger had skin tanned by the promise of summer and years spent beneath a kind sun who favored him. It made Yoongi so uneasy.

“Who are you?” a very skeptical mail-man asked.

“You don't recognize me?” The stranger stopped short, and seemed to ponder for a moment, “no, I guess you wouldn't.”

Against his better judgement Yoongi ventured to ask “Have we met before?” The thought that crept into the mint haired mailman's head as he watched this man's soft eyes search for answers was wholly unpleasant. Uneasiness started its slow parade through his mind; because this was starting to feel like a lot of other experiences he had had.

“I was with you in the river,” was the soft reply, “You thought you were going to drowned but you were fine,” at the terrified skepticism etched across the shorter man's face he added, “I've always been glad that those fisherman found you though. It eased your spirit.”

“That's seriously creepy,” caught under the mail couriers breath. This wasn't the first time some completely weird fan had approached him but it was the most fascinating thus far. Somehow against the continued anxiety building in his gut he managed to keep his eyes fixed on the stranger.

“That grove,” the seemingly unshakable willow tree of a man continued, “The one up north near the steppe, the with the paradise fruit...I've always wanted to see the pictures you leave in the gnarled oak. OH! And that old ruin. The stars are beautiful there aren't they?” A lot of people knew of these things, but none of them knew in intimate detail. He'd never told anyone about the oak tree where he dumped the extra pictures and the ruin was so deep in the forest, so far off the path, that even the locals didn't know how to get to it. He hadn’t had time to tell anyone about that one yet. 

“Did you follow me or something?”

“No...I, well...sort of I guess...I was with you...But, but not like that...”

“Vern,” Yoongi called, “Vern on your guard.” The lazy sheepdog came to stand between him and the taller man, but oddly, he wasn't growling. “I'm going to scream for help now,” the mint haired mailman warned. He had to swallow against the lump in his throat as he took a breath.

“No please, wait, Yoongi...just...just wait.” the brunette soothed throwing a hand up like a lifeline. Hearing his name...for the first time from those lips, it sounded like rain blowing across the desert at night. “Please, there's no easy to way to say this. I know it's confusing and hard to understand. I know you're scared.”

It was starting to go beyond super weird but Yoongi was captivated because somehow this nameless man managed to look...like dry ground after eight hours swimming, or a tree to rest in after a day long walk.

“Yoongi I know so, so much about you,” the other said, “I know how you love to walk without shoes so you can feel the dirt. I know you love the smell of honeysuckle and cedar and I know that you never get lost because you wait for your feet to find the right way. I know that the jungle doesn't scare you because you're never alone. I know you love to sleep with your ears to the ground because you want to feel the world beneath you, but your favorite place to sleep is curled up on my heart.”

Cedar and honeysuckle echoed through his weightless heart.

“What...what's you're name?” Yoongi asked. His hesitation lingered but his curiosity had always been his most overwhelming characteristic...well maybe second to his stubbornness. “What should I call you?”

“Taehyung.”

The glass behind Yoongi crackled again and the peace that overwhelmed him was starting to fill up his soul. It made him almost uncomfortable, the way he could only feel calm when his head was screaming for resolution when turned to look over his shoulder.

“Go-go ahead...” Taehyung stuttered, “Put your ear to the Heart. It's my heart. It's ready to give you an answer.”

The mail man looked between the glass behind him and the gorgeous, nervous, stranger before him. Somehow he managed to suspend his disbelief and decide upon the glass. Yoongi crawled through the bars of the rail with more hope and apprehension than he'd had since his childhood and pressed his ear to cold glass.

A whisper came on the breadth between two waves. Sounding in the silence that was made of early spring. Deep, warm familiarity fused with his fears and echoed back as something distant. And Yoongi could hear the ocean crashing through a cove miles away as “Taehyung,” rasped out and rattled through his bones.

The smaller man pulled away with a strange emptiness settled in his soul, crawled back through the bars and turned around slowly.

“I tried to find the perfect person for you but the Goddess had other ideas I guess,” the other explained.

Yoongi had no words. His skin was humming with the night full of crickets. He'd given up on finding a soulmate for himself and just fallen in love with adventure as Jimin had put it. But the more he thought about it the more the mint haired mail man realized that maybe it was the world he'd be in love with all along.

“No one's ever loved me the way you do,” Taehyung confessed reaching up to scratch the back on his head. The world gave a dorky, endearing gummy smile that enveloped his warm eyes and the tension in the room dissolved so rapidly that everything was left sharply empty. So much so that Vern shook off and laid down right in the middle of the floor.

And Yoongi fell down to his knees on the stone, bewildered but not entirely confused just... out of words for describing how he felt. 

Taehyung rushed over to him, kneeled before him so close they were almost touching and said the words that made everything right and okay again despite the insanity, “I came here because I want to go with you.”

With everything he had left in him the little mailman leaned forward and let his forehead collide with a sharp collarbone. He wanted to soak in every breath of this moment. For all of his old desires for it and recent fear of it he never could have imagined the result. Yoongi laughed into his soulmate’s shoulder and reveled in the dark smell of cedar and the warmth of sun kissed skin. Lady in the sky this man was beautiful beyond measure. The mint haired mailman felt just a little unworthy. He’d never thought the world could love him the way that he loved it. But everything with a heart must have a soul too right?

The taller man took the invitation and wrapped warm arms around the mail courier; which somehow after a moment turned into a desperately soft embrace. Yoongi could could feel the humming pulse of the world in his fingertips instead of in the soles of his feet when his hand trailed up Taehyung’s loose shirt. It felt odd to be so close to someone he’d just met but then again they already knew everything there was to know about each other. 

“This might be too forward,” the taller man said, “but can I kiss you now?”

There was no audible reply, just the sudden pressure of two people pushed together. It was like the sky had melted and little bits of starlight were caught in every breath, getting stuck between awkward teeth that knocked together uncomfortably. It was perfect. 

Everything was oddly perfect. 

 

~~~

There is a mausoleum in the jungle not so far from The Heart of the World that every mailman must visit before his last contract is signed. There are two inscriptions etched into the alabaster. “Yoongi, the man who loved the world so deeply that it lived for him. Never so noble a postman was there.” And “The world who has a name. Taehyung, lived but once in an eternity for his beloved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...there we go. It's finished. This part anyway; I'm sure there is more to come ;) but I am closing out this part of the story. I promised from the start that I was telling a love story. Thank you for going on this journey with me, I hope the completion lived up to the start. 
> 
> I don't usually dedicate these things but this is legitimately some of the best work I have ever done. I put my heart and soul into this fic so it gets a dedication to the creatures it belongs to.
> 
> I have four dogs; Vash the Stampede is my Old English Sheepdog, Captain Malcolm Reynalds is my Australian Shepherd, Starscream Destroyer of Worlds is my mutt boy and Sir Lancelot the Brave is my Maltese. I am dedicating this to them but most of all, not to the 120lbs Sheepdog on whom you'd think Vern was based but to Starscream. My partner in crime, my partner in life, the 20lbs mutt with adventure in his eyes. Seven years young. Seven years of teaching an abused autistic girl how to love again. You were small and terrified when I met you at the pet store but I've never met a braver, kinder, more loyal creature in my entire life. May your Rocky Mountain adventures and unbelievable desire to be a brown dog rather than a white one go down in history dear friend. Here's to ten more years together in this wild world.

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no idea where this came from but I'm enjoying it. I hope you all do as well.


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